


Ferris-Wheels and Plush Toys

by SlytherinHowl



Series: The Ferris-Wheel AU series [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Apologies, Blow Jobs, Cats, Child Loss, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Feelings Realization, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, In a way, More Elton John, Teacher-Student Relationship, Winter Festival, Winter Solstice, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinHowl/pseuds/SlytherinHowl
Summary: On that winter night, Jorah Mormont learnt not to let anything distract him and Daenerys Targaryen learnt not to doubt the accuracy of romance films ever again.On the nights that followed, they learnt that love truly was a Ferris-wheel.





	1. Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the following reasons:  
> 1- I can't have enough fluffy Jorah/Dany Modern AUs.  
> 2- My South American ass thinks winter festivals are the cutest, most romantic shit ever.  
> This was supposed to be a fluffy, short one-shot but then the smut crept in and I ended up writing eight pages and developing a whole story for Jorah that I might write later on. I divided the chapter in two, the first part with the fluff and the second with the smut that I'll be posting on Friday.  
> The version of _Tiny Dancer_ I had on my mind was either Taron Egerton's from _Rocketman_ (so soft!) or Florence's, but Elton's original works just as well. Without further ado, I really hope you enjoy!

Professor Daenerys Targaryen stood in front of her mirror, carefully pinning each braided section of her hair into place in an intricate pattern she had learnt in her youth in Essos. After she was finished with her silvery hair, the anthropologist searched her image for any remaining cat fur on her black coat and was pleased when she didn't find much, for she had spent some good twenty minutes cleaning that coat. She exited her bathroom and entered her wide living room, an organized chaos of dolls, statues, combs and paintings of all kinds of places Daenerys had been to. She sat next to her three sleeping cats, her most constant company, and put on her boots and her red scarf. Drogon opened his yellow eyes more or less suspiciously, not sure why his mother was going out on a cold winter night. She smiled and scratched behind his ears before getting up, grabbing her purse and leaving the house. 

She walked absentmindedly to the bus stop on her street and got on the first bus that would go up Visenya's Hill to the Sept of Baelor's park, where the biggest winter fair of King's Landing took place every year. In her four years of teaching at the Dragonpit University of King's Landing since getting her Ph.D. from the University of Dragonstone, Daenerys had always visited the fair alone, until that year. She was unsettled by this fact, with something between panic and butterflies building up in her stomach. She was going on a date, for all she knew, even though neither she nor her companion had called it that. She unlocked her phone to see a new message from Jorah Mormont saying he was waiting for her by the entrance of the ice rink. She tapped on his picture and his deep azure eyes met her light violet ones. He was ruggedly handsome, masculine, yet somewhat soft. He was a quiet, hardworking man who had a lost air around himself that drew her to him without her knowledge or consent. She didn't want him in her life. Everyone whom she had loved had left her one way or another, especially northerners like Jorah. Her previous relationship with one ended on a _very_ sour note and even though she wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, she knew that they had a tendency to be pretty much like Jon Snow was. She didn't want anyone in her life at that point. She wanted to get up every day, go to work and go back home to her cats and her books, yet she hopped off the bus in front of the Sept's marble walls and replied to him she would meet him at the rink. 

Jorah Mormont had enrolled in one of her elective subjects on Dothraki iconography three semesters prior to that winter night. He stood out among the fifteen fresh-faced anthropology students, hidden behind his thick beard and his worried eyes. She smiled at him on the first day of class, glad to see a man in his late forties back to university (much later he would confess to her that he found that smile to be patronizing and that he almost dropped out of her class, thinking he didn't belong there. Daenerys apologized profusely, clinging to his arm and promising never to do that again). Despite his uneasiness, Jorah proved to be a model student. His depth of knowledge and experience astounded both Daenerys and the other students, yet he was never arrogant about it. He sat in his corner and paid close attention to everything that was being said or done in class, only interfering when necessary. Daenerys was intrigued by him, so in the course of the school year, she often found herself talking to the quiet man, trying to grasp exactly what he was. 

She understood why blue was a sad colour when Jorah mentioned his many years in the westerosi army; his eyes lost the faint glimmer they had and they avoided her gaze, looking at the floor in shame of whatever he had done (she had not asked what, of course, but his lifeless stare left a sour taste in her mouth). However, when he talked about his time as a tour guide in Vaes Dothrak his eyes lit up once more and she felt relief washing over her. He returned to Westeros to study Museology in the History department and seemed to be torn between the happiness he felt in restarting his life and going to university for the first time and feeling like an impostor. During that year, they had exchanged e-mails and stories and had become somewhat of a constant in each other's lives, so Daenerys was a little sad to grade his very last seminar, thinking it would be the end of their acquaintance. 

It wasn't. She found him cycling not far from her house in the beginning of the summer holidays and a little chat on the street became a longer chat at a café, which became lunches together and walks around the neighbourhood, text messages and theatre plays. She was unsure of what they had become, of what uncrossable lines they (or at least she) had crossed. She enjoyed his quiet, comfortable company, his rare smiles and his rich voice and he seemed to enjoy her stories and possibly her face. Daenerys had caught him glancing at her lips more than once, yet she could not find the strength to confront him about it, for she had wondered what it would feel like to have his beard scratching her skin a few times too. She never acted in favour of her attraction, though, and whenever her thoughts regarding Jorah began to stray she busied herself with the many reasons why her interest in him was no more than, as her younger students liked to put it, a crush. He was some fifteen years older than she was, she didn't truly know his intentions towards her, they had lived entirely different lives, however many similarities they had and she had been his professor. Daenerys cared a great deal about authority and hierarchy, so she told herself, _very rationally,_ she was happy with having him as a friend and nothing more. 

When he clumsily invited her to visit the winter fair with him in a _not-date_ , she could have delivered a whole rehearsed speech about the inappropriateness of the situation, but her impulse betrayed her rationality and she agreed. She spent the week thinking about how to cancel without sounding dismissive or rude, yet the day came and she had found no answer, so she swallowed hard and made her way towards the brightly lit park. She would go, try to have a decent time, drink some mulled wine and go home _without_ Jorah. This was real life, not _Love Actually._

The image of the fair did take her mind away from the man. She couldn't help but smile contentedly at the long row of leafless trees decorated with blue fairy lights. Stands of all kinds drew people around and all sorts of sweet Yule smells reached her nostrils. At the end of the wide walking path she could see a Ferris-wheel spinning slowly, looking over a big ice rink. She could hear live music playing to her right, so she assumed there would be concerts throughout the night. She walked slowly towards the rink, nervously searching for Jorah. She found him on a bench, his face half hidden under his cap. He rose eagerly to his feet in a not so swift motion and Daenerys felt her stomach twist and turn. Butterflies then. He bent down and she embraced him, feeling the roughness of his brown tweed coat as she momentarily pressed her face to his shoulder. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to get a bus." 

"No worries. I took the time to find the stage line up for tonight. I don't know if you know them, but a nice local pop-rock band called Flea Bottomers is playing today. Their show starts at nine. I'm looking forward to it" 

"I never took you for a pop-rock man. I always assumed you liked classic rock." 

"I do, but these kids are quite good. They do sound like the type of music you would like." 

"I'll trust your good judgement then. What do we do in the meantime?" 

"Wanna have a go at the ice rink? You told me you never went ice skating before." 

Daenerys looked at the people having their fun at the rink in a mix of worry and amazement. She didn't want to make a fool of herself among these people who were clearly born and raised on skates, but Jorah's pleas and his hopeful, boyish smile got the best of her and she begrudgingly accepted his offer. They rented two pairs of ice skates and set off for the rink. Daenerys was terrified of stepping on the ice, but Jorah coaxed her out of the tent with one of his rare, disarming smiles. 

"OK, you have to keep your knees slightly bent and your feet have to face the same direction, then you start dragging foot after foot backward. I'm holding onto you, don't worry. I swear to protect you." 

Daenerys took a deep breath and started to do as Jorah told her. It seemed easy enough when she saw other people doing it, but by the Seven it was not. Five minutes in and she fell on her bum. She looked at Jorah indignantly when he laughed hard, something he didn't do often. Of course, she was not angry; she was secretly enjoying the experience of being there with him immensely, even though her further attempts at moving on the ice were hilariously unsuccessful. After an hour or so of trying she got tired of the ice rink and they left for the food stands, still subconsciously leaning on each other. They tried every dish that caught their eye, especially the sweet ones, since both had a sweet tooth and they had a pleasant time critiquing the food and wine they had tried. Each of them had a warm cup of mulled wine on their hands when they passed a game stand where a bored Margaery Tyrell was cleaning the barrel of a pellet rifle. Behind her were bright red targets and big, ugly plush toys of a scary-looking black dragon, a mangy unicorn and a cross-eyed bear. Daenerys was fascinated by toys of all kinds to the extent of studying their social representation in Mereenese society during her Ph.D. research. Her eyes lit up when she saw the horrible plushies and she dragged Jorah to the stand with her. 

"If it's not my favourite distinguished lesbian doing voluntary work at the winter fair once again," Daenerys said amusedly and Margaery rolled her eyes. She then looked at Jorah and smiled mischievously. 

"You finally got company this year! For such a beauty to be always alone should be a crime." 

"This is Jorah Mormont, he's a good friend of mine," Margaery raised an eyebrow at 'friend', "so, when are you gonna give me one of those plushies for me to add to my collection of playing oddities?" 

"Either buy one at a shop or win one, _Professor Targaryen._ I'm not giving you anything," the blonde replied flirtatiously. Daenerys shook her head at the young woman, trying not to laugh.

Jorah, who had been silent, chuckled lightly and slid a bill towards Margaery. Daenerys noticed that even though he was smiling, he was glancing at the gun apprehensively and fidgeting. 

"Jorah, there's no need for you to do it, I'm just teasing her. Come on, let's do something else," she pleaded, trying to steer him away from the stand. She didn't want to expose him to a situation that reminded him of a traumatic part of his past. She tugged at his sleeves and insisted, but he would not budge.

"It's okay, Dany, really, I'm okay," he said as he placed the rifle on his shoulder in an almost automatic movement of someone who had done that many times before. 

His hand was shaking visibly and his whole body was tense, but Daenerys knew he was as stubborn as she was and would not back down. He aimed and shot once, twice, three times, four times but missed every shot. On his last shot, he glanced at her and she placed a hand on his shoulder. He breathed deeply and shot straight at the centre of the target and suddenly all the tension left his body. Daenerys feared he would collapse to the floor, so she half hugged his back to keep him in place. Margaery was clapping slowly, her eyebrows raised, as she told Jorah to choose which prize he wanted. He picked the black dragon and gave it to Daenerys, who hugged the creature along with his torso. They thanked Margaery and walked away aimlessly, arm in arm. When they were far from the stand, she stopped and placed her hand on his bearded face. 

"You didn't have to do it, Jorah, you didn't have to prove yourself to me. You're wonderful, you don't have to push your limits to please me," she said worriedly, stroking his face. He leaned heavily on her touch and closed his eyes.

"I thought you would be happy if I got you the plushie, I know you do research on toys. I wanted to make you happy and to prove something to myself," she looked at him with as much sympathy and warmth as she could without verging on pity, as she knew he would despise that, "some people have told me I should go back to the army and leave university behind, but when I lifted that pellet gun I knew I could not go back, ever. It was a bit of shock therapy, I guess." 

Daenerys embraced him tightly for a long while, listening to the sounds of the fair and to his raspy breathing against her ear. When she drew back, she kissed his cheek and looked deep into his eyes, which held a multitude of emotions she could not name. She knew then that the many lines she had crossed would not be uncrossed, but surprisingly the feeling did not weigh on her. She just wanted to be with Jorah. Only the future would tell her if it was a mistake or not.

"How can I make it up to you?" 

"You don't need to, Daenerys, seriously I-" 

"No, I insist. I'll do anything," she said honestly and he smiled lightly, knowing not to argue. 

"Well, then. I would like to ride the Ferris-wheel if you don't mind," she had expected him to ask for a kiss or two (which she was by then more than ready to give, hierarchy and authority be damned), but she thought his request was endearing. Well, if they were going to take the _Love Actually_ path, they might as will do it in style. 

They walked together to the tall structure and bought a pair of tickets. The gondola they boarded had one of the seats covered in what looked like spilt soda, so they pair had to, _unfortunately,_ bundle up together on the opposite seat. Whoever was on the stage started an enthralling rendition of _Tiny Dancer_ that brought a wistful smile to Daenerys' lips. She remembered her mother's soft voice singing the song on her father's piano; the long car rides with her friends in Essos, belting out to an old Elton John tape one of them had nicked from a store; her, dancing alone in her flat during her university days. She didn't want to look back at those memories because if she looked back she was lost, so she thought that maybe in twenty years she would listen to the song again and see Jorah Mormont's warm eyes on that winter night. She turned to him when he placed some stray strands of hair behind her ear, his eyes shining with an adoration she had never seen, at least not directed at her. Yes, the song would definitely remind her of his eyes in the time to come.


	2. Lay Me Down In Sheets Of Linen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have the last part (FOR NOW!) of this story. Now, I am not a great fan of smut, neither as a reader nor as a writer, but I decided to give it a try and see how awkward I felt writing it (a bit - I'm not very good at describing stuff, especially sex, but it was worth a shot). This is not a masterpiece of erotica, so don't expect much of it, but I do sincerely hope it is not too bad.   
> Thanks a lot to everyone who read the first chapter and left kudos and comments! Hope you enjoy this last bit!

She didn't know who started it, but suddenly their noses were touching and she could feel the slight brush of his lips against hers. Their almost-kiss came to an abrupt end when the dragon plushie that was somewhere in between the two let out a terrifyingly loud growl. Jorah jumped back and hit his head on the metal bar that held the structure of the gondola while Daenerys started laughing hysterically. It was his turn to look at her indignantly, red as a tomato under his blonde beard. When her laughter died down, they searched the dragon for a button and found one on its right front paw. That story would certainly become one of their shared jokes in the future. Daenerys spent the rest of the ride laying on Jorah's shoulder while he tried to collect himself. They left the Ferris-wheel for the stage and Jorah still hadn't said a word. Daenerys shook her head and stood on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. 

"You know, you didn't get your cinematic first kiss on a Ferris-wheel, but a winter fair is still a fairly picturesque site for a kiss." 

She could almost see every single cog in his head moving. He turned to her, but instead of kissing her he took that dragon from her hands and placed it on a bench nearby, not without throwing some angry glances at the toy. 

"Can't risk any more distractions," he said before taking her face in his hands and finally kissing her properly. 

The Flea Bottomers started playing, but neither Jorah nor Daenerys paid any attention to them. She felt protected with his hands on her back and neck and he was nearly bursting with happiness as they kissed. She could taste the hot wine and the smile on his lips and Daenerys decided it was a good and promising taste, one she wouldn't mind trying more often. They heard loud whistling and clapping and while they were not sure if the cheering was directed at them, Daenerys broke the kiss to survey her surroundings. Surely enough Margaery Tyrell was smiling wickedly at them and making obscene gestures. 

"You know, if she wasn't my Advisor's granddaughter I would tell her to fuck off, but I owe about 90% of my research project to Olenna Tyrell, so..." Jorah chuckled at that and kissed Daenerys' forehead. 

"It seems the gods are bent on interrupting us tonight." 

"Yes. I say we get out of here before she attracts a crowd, Margaery is great at doing that. We can catch the band when they play somewhere more... private," she said with a wink and a hint of mischievousness. 

"I would love that." 

The pair made a beeline for the bus stops, hand in hand, ignoring Margaery and her teasing. Daenerys spent the entire bus ride leaning on Jorah, still trying to process everything that had happened. To think that on the day before she was convinced she didn't want Jorah! Maybe her instincts did make good decisions, after all. They got off the bus at her street and walked to the front of her house, where Jorah pulled her for what he expected to be a goodnight kiss. 

"You're not gonna come in?" 

"It's, uh, it's late, Daenerys, I, I should go..." 

"Jorah, we're not in the 1950s. Come on, come meet the cats," she told him with a peck to his lips. 

"I never actually went home with a woman while sober. I don't... I don't know what to do," he said, clearly embarrassed with himself. Daenerys felt something warm bubbling inside her chest, a mix of laughter and happiness and want. She opened the door and dragged him inside by his collar. 

As soon as the door was closed she was on him again, kissing him with newfound urgency. They managed to remove each other's coats, mouths still glued together, and kick off their shoes before stumbling towards her sofa. She straddled him as he yanked off her scarf and devoured her neck, but stopped when two paws touched his leg. Jorah left Daenerys' neck under her protests to look at the cream-coloured ball of fluff that climbed on the sofa next to them. 

"This is Rhaegal, he is clingy and inconvenient," Jorah clucked and petted the cat while Daenerys placed her forehead against his, breathing hard, "Be a good boy and go to sleep with your brothers, Mummy is busy." 

"Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Cats." 

As if listening to his mother, Rhaegal left the sofa and Daenerys went back to snogging Jorah. They stripped each other of their top layers until she was topless and he was in his t-shirt. She sensed his reluctance in removing the garment and she imagined it was because of some scar he was ashamed of. She interrupted her kissing of his jaw and looked at him tenderly, her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. His eyes bore a kind of fear she had only seen in her own eyes. Maybe that was why he never slept with anyone while sober. After some moments of a probable internal turmoil, he assented and she pulled the shirt over his head. There were scars hidden under the soft ginger hair on his chest, some uglier than others. She could feel his muscle, not entirely defined but strong. She tried to kiss his insecurity away until it was her time to feel insecure when he asked her to undo her braids and let her hair down. Her braids were her strength. No one since her youth had seen her without her hair in elaborate braids, not her friends, not her colleagues and not her previous lovers, so why should he? She looked at him again, at his scars, and realised that her internal battle was probably the exact one he had when she removed his shirt. He exposed himself before her eyes, weaknesses and all, however much it hurt him. She understood he did it because he trusted her, so she thought it was only fair that she tried to trust him too and leave to the future to tell her how big of a mistake it was. 

He helped her remove the pins from her hair and let each section loose. She closed her eyes as he marvelled at her silvery mane and let him play with it as she had played with his chest. Daenerys felt a renewed fire building up as Jorah carded his fingers through her hair and took her breasts in his mouth. She fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper and slipped her hand under his boxers to stroke his hard cock. He jerked and grunted, grinding against her palm. 

"Bedroom, Jorah." 

He yanked both their trousers down when they got up and they blindly navigated her corridors until they reached her room in all its red and purple bazaar glory. They reached the bed and Jorah fell on top of Daenerys, pressing her against the colourful bed sheets.

"Your house looks exactly like I thought it would," he whispered, kissing the underside of her right breast as his hands removed her underwear. 

"A mess?" she moaned, enjoying the rasp of his beard on her belly. 

"A story." 

The warmth she had felt at her door returned to her, though it might have been due to Jorah pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her clitoris. He listened closely to her verbal and nonverbal commands to please the woman he had fallen for since first setting foot in her classroom. She moaned loudly and tugged at his hair to get his wandering tongue back to her clit. He inserted a finger and then another in her opening as he sucked on her nub, moving his hand rhythmically with his tongue and truly enjoying how she writhed, pawed at his head and clenched around his fingers. His slow thrusting and his tongue's precise motions around her clit brought Daenerys over the edge with a scream. He eased her down from her height and waited until her internal walls had stopped fluttering to remove his fingers. There was a flush to her body as she laid spent or the bed that made Jorah's cock twitch in his boxers. He kissed a path back up to her neck until her fingers grazed his cheek and brought his lips back to hers. She tasted herself in his mouth and found it oddly exhilarating. The men she had seen before either didn't go down on her or did it somewhat unwillingly, with one or two exceptions. Jorah looked at her expectantly, not wanting to make a move she didn't approve of. 

"There are condoms in that drawer," she said, motioning to a nightstand on her right. He stood, clearly relieved, and removed his boxers. His cock sprung free and he rolled a condom onto his thick shaft with a hiss. She smirked lazily as she appraised his cock. Promising. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, Jorah," she said, tugging him back down. 

He settled between her legs, glancing at her one more time to make sure she wasn't going to change her mind. She mewled her consent when his tip brushed her clit and he buried himself into her with a drawn-out moan. He thrust slowly a few times before they picked up pace. Daenerys felt the pleasure starting to build up again as Jorah fucked her and even though her thighs hurt and she enjoyed the slow friction of his body on top of hers, she flipped them over without letting him slip from inside her. He let out a surprised whimper but smiled appreciatively as she started riding his cock in a new rhythm. Their joined moans filled the room as she guided one of his hands to her breast and the other to her clit. She watched his face as best as she could to see how close he was and did she find it fascinating to watch that man, always so restrained and a bit sullen, moaning with abandon, lost in pleasure inside her. Soon his hips started to buckle and falter and his breathing came out in pants. He was clutching at her hips with both hands, so she touched herself quickly, trying to catch up with him. Jorah moaned her name shakily as he came, his accent thicker than ever. She rode him harder, trying to get the most of his still hard cock and granted she felt the first wave of her new orgasm hit her not long after his body tightened under her. She fell forward with a loud moan, clenching around his softening cock. Not perfect synchrony, but close. 

"I need to pee," she said amusedly after a moment of trying to steady her breathing while she laid on his chest, 'You should go, too." 

Jorah watched her leave the bed in a daze. He got up, peeled off the condom and cleaned himself with some tissues from her nightstand. He put his boxers back on but was unsure of what to do then. Was he welcome to stay or should he go back home? He wanted to stay, wanted to hold Daenerys all night, possibly every night, but he didn't know how far their newfound intimacy went. His questioning came to an end when she returned to her room, clad in _his_ t-shirt and holding yet another cat, a grey one with blue eyes. 

"This is Viserion, he wouldn't leave me alone. Say hi," Jorah smiled and scratched the cat's ears, "I left a toothbrush for you on the bathroom sink. Be careful not to disturb Drogon, he's the black one sleeping in the laundry basket and he fucking scratches." 

Jorah followed her advice and went to the bathroom. Drogon did look at him like he was going to claw his eyes out but did nothing. When he returned to her room, he found Daenerys under the covers, petting Viserion. He settled beside her, wrapping his arms around her and the cat as she turned off the lights. Both thought of a million things to say but neither found the rights words to say them. Jorah kissed her instead as Viserion purred steadily between them. The last thought that came to Daenerys' mind before sleep overcame her was that she _really_ needed to think twice before she said again that _Love Actually_ was unrealistic.


	3. Well a Few of the Verses, Well They've Got Me Quite Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year and a half after the winter fair, Jorah tells Daenerys a few stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can totally see this story not leaving me alone in the near future. I wanna write about the Mormonts, I wanna write about the cats (next chapter is probably this one as told from their point of view), I wanna write about Daenerys thinking about children... I wanna write about a load of things. Thanks a lot to everyone who read, commented and left kudos so far, it really means a lot! I hope you guys don't mind a little bit of hurt/comfort (with yet more references to Elton John, I'm a sucker for Elton John), because I rather liked this chapter and the fact that I managed to write a full backstory for Jorah! I always focused more on Dany on my fics so that's a first. Anyways hope you enjoy!!

Daenerys sat on her bed, struggling to finish the translation of an article she was supposed to submit to the Journal of the Mereneese Society of Anthropology. Knowing her Valyrian went only to a certain point, she sighed and closed the lid of her laptop, setting it on her nightstand. She would later call Missandei, an actual certified and competent translator, and pay her friend to translate it for her. She settled under her covers and waited for Jorah to return from the bathroom to turn off the lights. While the two usually had their fun on weekends like that one (especially since Daenerys discovered he actually loved it when she tied him to the bed and teased him mercilessly), in that day she would much rather just drape her arms over him and sleep. She was worried about this article and Jorah was worried about his graduation in three weeks, the most worried she’d seen him in their almost 18 months together. She thought his preoccupation was unfounded; he had landed a position as an archivist at the National Museum of Westeros even before having his diploma, he had a nice flat, had her and the cats and he had been approved in the selection process for a Master’s Degree in Museology at the University of King’s Landing. From her point of view, there was nothing wrong happening to him. 

Jorah dragged himself out of the bathroom and hid under the bed covers next to Daenerys, a six feet tall ball of anxiety. He had been like this for a week and she just couldn’t understand why. He was trying to play it cool, and even though he was better at hiding his emotions and thoughts than her she knew him well enough to sense there was something wrong, something he wouldn’t tell her. She scooted closer to him and pecked his lips and his cheeks, yet he seemed to only grow tenser. It was odd, Jorah never shied away from her touch, so Daenerys felt she needed to get some answers from him. From what she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but she wanted to find out what was troubling her boyfriend. 

“Jorah, what’s wrong? Don’t say ‘nothing’, I know there’s something bothering you and it’s not just the graduation ceremony,” she questioned. Jorah laid flat on his back and mulled his answer over. 

“My father and my aunt are coming to my graduation. Cousins might come too.” 

“Is that good?,” she wasn’t expecting that answer. For all she knew Jorah didn’t keep in touch with his family, though she didn’t know why. Family was a touchy subject for both of them and she didn’t know if she could offer him anything other than letting him talk if he wanted to. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, but his mind was far away from her. After a while, he elaborated a bit “I’m afraid of what will happen when we see each other.” 

“Can I ask you why?” 

He didn’t answer right away and avoided her eyes. His past had always been a subject he would rather not mention and even when he did, Daenerys had a feeling that it was a somewhat censored version of the events. Of course she wanted to know, but she understood that he had the right not to tell her if he so wished. Daenerys would then say ‘OK’, turn off the lights and carry on with her previous plan to snuggle into him and sleep, if her burning curiosity and worry allowed her to. That was not the case, however, as Jorah took a deep breath and started to speak. 

“My father was a general, one of those respectful, patriotic ones you would hear about. Never left a single man in his battalion behind. I was his only child, healthy, so the only real option for me was the army, even though I always kind of wanted to go to university. I remember the literal sermon he gave me when I mentioned to him that I would like to study History, he said it it was for ‘commies’ and proceeded to tell me about the advantages of being a soldier and serving your country,” he chuckled bitterly, still not meeting Daenerys’ eyes, “so I enlisted when I turned 18. The first four years were… Uneventful. I was deployed to a few places in Westeros and Essos, got yelled at by my superiors and eventually learnt to get my shit together and resign to the army life. The war in the Iron Islands started when I was 22. I spent three years fighting there, mostly on Pyke. Absolute nightmare, Dany. There is a beast in every man and it stirs when you put a gun in his hand,” he looked at the wall, his eyes empty. Daenerys laid her head on his shoulder. Eventually his left hand started stroking her hair and he took a deep breath, ready to speak again. 

“When I got sent home with a few battle scars, some medals and a ton of issues I was bent on leaving the army, but they received me in Bear island as a fucking hero. My family was so proud of me, Captain Mormont, that I… Didn’t have the heart to leave. I spent another seven years in the army, became a Major. After fourteen years I got an injure the army doctors either couldn’t fully heal or didn’t care to,” he took a deep breath and Daenerys was under the impression he was about to tell her a part of his life he didn’t really want to talk about, “I got a medical discharge while I was in Oldtown. My men threw me a little goodbye party a few weeks before I was allowed to return home. I got absolutely wasted and ended up meeting a girl at the pub and sort of falling in love or maybe in lust with her.”

“Her name was Lynesse and she had no idea what to do with her life, like me. I told her I would marry her and take her to Bear Island with me and well, I did, six months later. Things were great at first. We were supposedly in love, I was working in the family’s brewery as well as in the farm, keeping my head away from 14 years of trauma, but then Lynesse started to get bored with our rural life, my family disapproved of her and I couldn’t keep myself sane anymore. My marriage started to crumble and I resorted to smoking, then drinking, then gambling… Lynesse probably cheated on me with about every man on Bear Island. I was a shit husband, a shit human being. My relationship with my family, with my father, went to shit, too, especially after I was in so much debt he had to sell the brewery to help me. Lynesse left soon after. I was so ashamed of myself, I was willing to do all sorts of things to pay him back, to get a loan from the bank, to do anything, but my family was so angry with me that they just wanted me to go away, not even because of the money, but because of my disregard of them and of everything we had built. My father’s reputation suffered enormously and I am really glad my mother wasn’t around to see what I have done,” his voice, which had been narrating his story with almost emotionless objectivity, started to waver. 

Daenerys lifted her head from his shoulder to kiss his sharp, tear-soaked cheekbones, his nose and the corners of his lips. She held him tight and tucked his head under her chin as he sobbed, his face hidden in the crook of her neck. A tidal wave of feelings hit Daenerys. They burned her tongue and blocked her throat. She wanted to believe her Jorah could never do such things but she knew damn well how a lost, broken person could ruin their life. She’d been in his shoes. She was beginning to understand where his overly cautious, almost paranoid behaviour came from, why he was always so afraid of losing her and of doing new things without three backup plans. Daenerys wanted to talk to him about what he told her, to reflect on it, but she suspected Jorah wasn’t a kind of man who had many chances to cry without fear of being judged, so she held him tighter and let him shed his tears for as long as he wished to. If he was doing it, it was because he needed it and because he trusted her. Daenerys felt three new weights on the bed and turned to look at her questioning cats. Viserion and Rhaegal came and snuggled against the couple while Drogon curled up on Jorah’s feet. She felt her boyfriend chuckle a little as he gathered his honorary children in his arms and kissed their heads. After a few moments of cuddling with the cats, he spoke again.

“Well, after that I left for Essos, I knew some places there, I had notions of Dothraki and Valyrian and it was far away from Bear Island. I did all sorts of probably illegal things to survive, there were points when I didn’t even know if I would have enough money to buy food the next day. I got to Vaes Dothrak and started working as an informal tour guide and eventually, a local travel agency hired me, things got better. When I was forty-five I decided to take a leap of faith and move back to Westeros to finally pursue my dream of going to University. I wanted to go to the University of Winterfell at first, but no matter how much I wished to go back home I was terrified of doing so and of what it would mean to face my family again after eleven years away, so I came to King’s Landing instead. I thank the gods I did,” he said, looking at Daenerys with the same unbridled affection of a year and a half before, on that winter night, “If I hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t have met you, and you… You’re the greatest blessing I have ever received.” 

His last sentence was nothing more than a whisper. Love, expectation and fear danced on his angular, worn out features. She didn’t know exactly how to react to his declaration, how to take the heart he was offering her. She thought of the times she had said ‘I love you’ without meaning it and of the times she meant it. Heartbreak, she concluded, in all of them. She thought of the times she heard the three words and her conclusion was the same. Would he be the same? Jorah was not the man she had loved the most, but looking at his deep eyes she thought that maybe he could be the man she would love the longest. When she had looked into the eyes of every other person she had loved, even the ones who constantly made her heart burst in her chest, she could only see them and their present, but looking at Jorah she could see a future, a routine, a story. She had always thought that loving was only good when it was rollercoaster, when surprise was waiting for her at every corner, but maybe, _just maybe_ , Jorah’s constancy was what she’d been looking for her whole life. Their love could be a Ferris-wheel: moving, but steadfast. She caressed his face and remembered their first date to the tune of _Tiny Dancer_. The words that slipped from her lips were not the famed three, but they spoke of her heart just the same. 

_“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you’re in **my** world.”_

Perhaps in the years to come those lines could become nothing more than song lyrics and a bittersweet memory to the two of them, but Daenerys knew she wouldn’t have forgotten, these things she didn’t do, she wouldn’t have forgotten if they were green or if they were blue. She would forever remember, and that she really means, Jorah’s were the sweetest eyes she’s ever seen.


	4. Honky Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion's thoughts on relationships, their Mum and their possible new Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the previous one, as told by the three anthropomorphic furry dragons (yes, I gave them human conscience. I'm a sucker for philosophical cats). I finally finished it after much encouragement in the comments from zagu (I've seen people tag others on this site but I can't do that so zagu, if you're reading this, which I hope you are, thanks for the inspiration!). It's cutesy and I hope you all like it! Thanks one more time for the kudos and the comments!

The warm air of the summer nights was an old friend to Daenerys, so she always left the windows of her house open. Her street was mostly quiet, with very few cars around, except in the far end near the bus stop on the other bigger street, so the cats could come and go without risks. The trio was clever and had no problem with going in and out of the house as they pleased. That early night was no exception; Drogon left for his nightly stroll while his brothers decided to lay on the sofa. Viserion was always relieved to be free from Drogon for a few hours and Rhaegal secretly agreed. Of course, the three cats love each other in spite of the constant fighting, but the bigger, self-proclaimed older brother was quite a handful to deal with, or so Viserion thought. The grey cat stretched lazily and kneaded his cream brother, who opened his blue eyes slightly. 

_“What is it, Viserion?”_

_“Nothing. I’m just thinking that it gets more peaceful when Drogon isn’t around.”_

_“Oh, don’t be mean. Our brother is a bit rude but he means no harm.”_

_“Sometimes he does. He steals our food for the simple pleasure of it.”_

_“I think he’s grown out of that phase, but I do agree that he can be quite nasty towards humans.”_

_“Some of them deserve it. Remember how that Snow prick broke Mum’s heart?”_

_“I liked Jon, he gave good scratches.”_

_“You’re just saying that because he liked you best, but he was a twat. Dad is much better for her and for us.”_

_“Ha! You said it!”_

_“Said what?”_

_“You called Jorah ‘Dad’. You and Drogon made fun of me when I called him that.”_

_“I believe you were right, Rhaegal, he’s truly become our Dad. Sometimes I feel like he knows us from birth.”_

From the open window came Drogon, interrupting his siblings’ inaudible conversation. He pranced into the living room like a king, his bushy black tail up, swashing into the air. In his mouth there was a death moth, which he placed on the floor and gave it an uninterested nudge with his paw. 

_“Good evening, plebeians. Since none of you seem to be able to hunt, I went and did your job for you. Think Mother will be proud?”_

_“Hello, Drogon. No, neither Mum nor Dad will enjoy your present.”_

_“Dad? Oh, not you, too, Viserion. We haven’t got a Dad, this is just Rhaegal’s stupid wishful thinking. Mormont is just Mother’s current boyfriend, but soon enough she’ll be tired of him and you two will be orphans again, but not me because I know best.”_

_‘I’m not here to be insulted by you, Mr. Nihilist McLifeSucks. I **know** you like him, you’re playing hard to get because you’re afraid of getting attached.” _

_“You know very well what happened last time Mother and we got attached, Viserion.”_

_“I stand by my point, I don’t have to hear your whining. I’m out. Peace.”_

Viserion jumped off the sofa and left a dumbfounded Rhaegal and an angry Drogon behind. Viserion and Rhaegal were usually the best of friends, but the grey cat was often annoyed at how his cream brother never stood up to Drogon when he got cocky. He also knew that his black brother’s bickering and prickly behaviour came from his need to be close to their Mother and his desire to see her happy. Cats are smart, much smarter than humans, and Viserion is smarter than most cats. He wandered the house for a while until he decided to settle in his Mother’s study amidst her books and some of her trinkets. The cat slept peacefully for a long while until his blue eyes opened groggily due to the voices coming from his Mum’s room. He stretched and jumped out of the table, having decided to investigate and possibly cuddle with his two humans. What he found was not good. Mum had her arms around Dad’s shoulders, who seemed to be sobbing. Viserion felt the heavy energy in the room, the fur on his tail standing up. He ran from the room then, seeking his brothers. He found them on two kitchen chairs, sleeping as if nothing was happening. 

_“Dad seems to be hurt. He needs our help, we have to go!”_

Rhaegal opened his green eyes and soon rose from the chair, jumping to the floor next to Viserion. He would never leave his Dad alone. Drogon, on the other hand, eyed his brothers irritably, not pleased with them disturbing his nap to help his not-Dad. He would not help the Mormont man because he didn’t like him. Nope, not one bit. Not even when he gave him treats or scratched his ears. Mother hardly ever had time for Drogon and his brothers when the Mormont man was around, they were always in her room, snuggling and giggling and whatnot. What if he did what men do and left her? She would be heartbroken and Drogon did not want that. She was safer just with them, if only his brothers could understand that. 

_“Come on, Drogon! This is serious!”_

_“I’m not going, Viserion. Good luck with your Dad.”_

_“Yes, you are. Get up and come!”_

_“No, Viserion!”_

_“COME ON, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!”_

_“OH SEVEN HELLS I’M GOING, RHAEGAL. No need to get aggressive.”_

The black cat left his chair and followed his brothers to his Mother’s room, his ears drawn back and his tail low, in contrast to Rhaegal and Viserion, who were fully perked up and alert. The trio reached the bed and each cat placed his paws on the bed to get a glimpse of the scene before they jumped. Mum and Dad were joined in a heap on the bed, her face scrunched up in a grimace and his face hidden in her neck. They heard his laments and it weighed on their little cat hearts, even on Drogon’s. The three jumped then, with Rhaegal and Viserion going straight for the couple’s arms and Drogon curling up cautiously on Jorah’s feet. Jorah felt two cold, wet noses touching his tear-streaked face and couldn’t help but chuckle. He removed his arms from Daenerys’ frame and wrapped them around the cats. 

The woman felt that familiar warmth that was for Jorah alone watching that scene. The two children purred loudly in their Dad’s arms as she stroked their fur and she could feel the jealous stare of Drogon on the end of the bed. She tried her best to scratch his ears with her foot but didn’t quite succeed from her position, so she beckoned him to come closer. He came, somewhat warily, and settled against his Mother’s tummy as both his brothers got comfortable half laying on their Dad, Viserion on his right shoulder next to his head and Rhaegal on his chest. The children listened as Jorah finished his story and his hopeful declaration, filled with love to the brim. They waited anxiously for their Mother to reply, Viserion and Rhaegal because they had noticed she corresponded his feelings and because they truly liked happy endings and Drogon because he wanted to see if his theory of the Mormont man being a mere distraction in his Mother’s life would be proved or not. He secretly knew the answer, he had known the answer for a long time, otherwise he wouldn’t be laying with them as she held him, but he would not believe it until he had proof. He believed Jon and it turned out bad. 

_“She won’t get tired of him, Drogon. What we just heard was real.”_

_“She didn’t explicitly say the words.”_

_“Did she need to, though?”_

Drogon annoyedly covered his face with his tail. No, she didn’t need to say them. But maybe the cat would need to learn that having a Dad wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of ' _Honky Cat_ ' have nothing to do with this chapter but, you know, the chapter is about cats and the song has 'cat' on the title, so yeah, my naming logic ~~is pure crap~~ isn't that complicated.


	5. Can You Feel The Love Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys takes the matter of Jorah's nervousness into her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to dive straight into the arrival of the Mormonts but my brain ate itself and I was left with two neurons who decided that I should write more smut, because why the fuck not? The advantage of fanfiction is that we can just look dead in the eyes of D&D and say 'it's our town now.'  
> The Mormonts will arrive next chapter, though, along with some angst :)

Daenerys woke up with the blasted alarm going off. She was so comfortable draped over Jorah’s back that she just wanted to stay cuddled up to him for another hour. Even after their heartfelt conversation three weeks prior to that day the tension and anxiety hadn’t left Jorah, so Daenerys was constantly racking her brain to come up with ideas to help him relax. She was overjoyed when she found out that sex was the key and she wasted no time in fucking her boyfriend whenever she had a chance. If only she’d known before that his kitchen counter or the carpet on her study were such great places for some vigorous orgasms. All that internal conflict certainly did wake up the hungry, dominating beast in him and Daenerys definitely wasn’t going to complain about that, even though she usually liked being in charge. He had great stamina for a 50-year-old. They really did exchange roles during those weeks, with Jorah doing the primal fucking and Daenerys doing the cuddling and this arrangement worked surprisingly well. 

She placed a light kiss on his shoulder and got up, tiptoeing around her room. She wanted to let Jorah sleep a little longer because she knew he had problems with sleep. Even after 18 years away from the army, the marks it left on him were still visible. He told her once that the nightmares, which were almost like a nightly routine for him for years, were becoming fewer and far between, but still happened from time to time. She had witnessed one once, Jorah whimpered like a wounded dog and kicked his feet as his breathing sped up, but he calmed down quickly when she enveloped him in a hug, or at least she thought he did. His greatest problem was not being able to fall asleep or waking up to the smallest of noises. He would say that the best nights of sleep he got were the ones with her beside him, but she knew it was a big, fat lie. The best sleep he ever got was when he was cuddling with the cats - and it amused her to no end. Jorah usually flopped down on the sofa with Rhaegal and Viserion and slept like a log for hours, Daenerys could turn on the vacuum cleaner right next to his head and he wouldn't hear a thing. At first, she was quite jealous and mad at him and thought he was being cold towards her, but she came to understand that Jorah had been sleep-deprived his whole life and that those moments were the only ones he could fully let his guard down and get his much-needed rest. By doing that he wasn’t refusing her company, he was trusting her completely. When she finally got it, she felt guilty for being angry at him but happy that he felt so at ease with her. Daenerys then decided to join him in his naps and soon they had this scheduled weekly siesta that worked wonders for both of their moods and for the children too. 

She would much rather be sleeping with him until 9:00 AM instead of getting ready for a long day of department meetings. Daenerys had no idea why they decided to hold these meetings three days before the graduation ceremony, a week after the semester was over, but if she tried to change things, her colleagues would undermine her. Her fellow professors were a bunch of egotistical, narrow-minded scholars and she wouldn’t mind getting rid of them. She did feel very proud of herself whenever she noticed them getting more and more jealous of her accomplishments and of her growing name within their field. That day, however, she decided not to argue. She just hoped she could make it out of the university by 5:00 PM so that she could meet Jorah at the airport and prevent him from panicking. His family would arrive at 7:00 PM from Bear Island and she didn’t want her boyfriend to be a nervous mess. 

Daenerys showered quickly, wrapped herself in her bathrobe and went on to feed her cats and eat herself. When she and the cats were done eating, she returned to her room holding Drogon while the other two followed their Mum, head butting her calves. The three cats scrambled to the bed to wake their Dad up and Daenerys laughed when Jorah jumped as Rhaegal licked his nose. He fell back groggily and let the three curl up on him. 

“Morning, big boy,” she said as she perused her wardrobe. Jorah groaned loudly when she removed her bathrobe and exposed her lean naked backside to him. 

“Do you really have to go?” 

“Unfortunately yes. Those pricks from my department will want my head on a plate if I keep challenging them,” she said, she slipping on a matching set of underwear and buttoning her white trousers when she turned to kiss his forehead, “but I’ll meet you at the airport to pick your family up and help you with dinner.” 

His hungry gaze became worried and he swallowed roughly. She kissed both his cheeks as he shooed the cats away from his chest and stretched his arms to pull Daenerys down on top of him. Jorah hid his face in her neck and clutched at her back. She felt his nervous, laboured breath on her collarbone and his morning wood pressing against her thigh and decided that _fuck it_ , she would take an Uber to the University. She broke free from his embrace and smirked when he gave her a confused, slightly hurt look. She slid down his body until she was staring into his bulge. His eyes widened almost comically when he noticed her intentions. Daenerys was not a fan of blowjobs. Her previous experiences had been unpleasant and she avoided having to suck a dick like the plague, but Jorah was probably the most considerate and attentive lover she had ever had and he usually let her do whatever she wanted with him, so she thought he deserved a treat. 

She removed his boxers and she knew he was already biting back moans. She grasped the base of his cock with one hand and gave him a few strokes. That she liked doing, especially when she could drive him to the edge, only to stop and savour the irrational desperation in his face. She wouldn’t deny her man his pleasure that day, though, so her lips slowly enveloped his tip, testing the waters. Daenerys kept stroking him with her hand and she went as far as she could without it feeling too uncomfortable. Jorah was panting and whimpering, so she assumed he didn’t really mind if she couldn’t take all of his cock in her mouth, which gave her a boost of confidence and she started sucking harder and stroking faster, now with her left hand fondling his balls. She felt him pulsate as she went up and down and she predicted that he was about to come. She smiled inwardly, knowing what to do whenever she wanted to break him apart quickly. 

“Daenerys, Daenerys, stop, ah, ah, stop,” he gasped, arching his back and rolling his head in deep pleasure. 

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” she teased, licking the underside of his tip. He all but howled. 

“I’m, I’m close, Dany.” 

“I know, dear,” she stated simply and went back to sucking him. 

He almost immediately tensed up let out a long moan as she felt his cum hit her tongue. It was more sour than she remembered but not entirely disgusting as she used to think, perhaps because for once she wasn’t gagging on it. She decided it would be less messy to just swallow it and so she did. It was still far from her favourite sexual activity, but Daenerys found that she wouldn’t mind blowing Jorah again. She licked him clean and squeezed his thigh before getting up and fishing the dark blue blouse she left at the corner of the bed. 

“Calmer now?,” he sighed contentedly and hummed, his eyes still a bit glazed. 

“Thank you, my darling,” he said, in a mix of embarrassment and genuine gratitude. His eyes did shine with that glow that only Daenerys got to see. 

“That’s the first time a man thanks me for that,” she chuckled as she buttoned up her blouse. 

“Not just for.. that, for taking the time to listen to me and to help the best you can. I’m unbelievably grateful to have you beside me,” He said, the tips of his ears red. There it was, the warmth inside her chest. She dove down quickly and pressed a hard kiss to his chest, feeling his light chuckling. 

“I got to go or Tyrion Lannister will end up backstabbing me again. Message me if something happens, ok? I’ll meet you at night. Don’t forget to leave the living room window open for the cats to go out. Bye, honey. It’ll be fine, alright?” 

They smiled at each other and Daenerys bolted to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth again, arranged her half-dried hair into a simple braid and grabbed her makeup kit. She left quickly for the living room, fishing for her book bag, her white heels and her phone inside her purse. 7:40 AM still? She wasn’t all that late if she was going to get an Uber, they were usually fast to get to her house and she predicted there would not be a lot of traffic. She called her Uber and went back to the bathroom, where she found Jorah brushing his teeth. Poor thing probably wouldn’t be able to sleep any longer. As soon as he spat out and rinsed his mouth she pulled him for a searing kiss. He cupped her face and smiled into the kiss before breaking it when her phone vibrated in her hand with a message from her driver saying he had arrived. 

“If that Lannister prick so much as touches you, academically or not, I’m mauling him. Your Uber is here. I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” she said without really paying attention to her words. 

The Daenerys of three weeks prior danced around those three words and ended up not saying them to Jorah, but they slipped out of her mouth so naturally that she only noticed them when she was applying a bit of makeup on her way to the University, but her previous internal debate did not return to her. She said it because it was true, because she did love that fool who would take a bullet for her. She found herself smiling almost all the way from the car to the Anthropology building in the Human Sciences pavilion. When she got to the meeting room, though, she straightened herself and plastered her most commanding scowl on her face. She would stand her ground or die trying like the good ‘queen of her environment’ she was and she would show her colleagues that if they took their heads off their own arses all the curriculum problems they were facing would solve themselves. 

The day dragged itself like a putrid zombie in the films she eventually forced Jorah to watch with her. Daenerys was surrounded by idiots with P.h.D.s. She would not be the mad Essosi bitch they believed she was, so she kept to herself during the meetings, as long as they left her and her elective subjects alone and didn’t try to dump History of Anthropology on her. At 5:00, she noped out of the empty pleasantries and dinner invitations and took the underground to the airport. She reached her destination some forty minutes later and made a beeline for the terminal Jorah’s family would arrive in. She found her boyfriend sitting at a café, his hair and beard neatly trimmed. To passersby, he looked normal, if a bit grumpy, but by his clenched jaw and squared shoulders, she knew he was holding his nerves back. She knew he was preparing himself for impending disaster, being a pessimist a heart, and there was not much she could do about it, so she sat down in front of him and took his hands in hers, telling him about her meetings. 

He usually paid close attention to her but his mind was elsewhere. Daenerys tried to put herself in his shoes. How would she feel if her late parents and brothers magically came back to life and were the ones visiting her after years without seeing each other and a more than complicated relationship? She would be terrified, conflicted, angry and immeasurably sad. But most importantly, she would want warm hands to hold her and someone to protect her from the hostility that would come. She would want someone she could trust, a true friend, because her family was nothing but a bunch to strangers to Daenerys, either because they left this world too soon or because they never bothered getting closer to her. She knew that friend would be Jorah. He was her friend, her lover, her _knight_ , keeping his queen from harm. And she would be that friend to him, or her name wasn’t Daenerys Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title this time has less to do with the lyrics matching the story and more to do with the point in _Lion King_ when it's played *waggles eyebrows*


	6. I Can’t Take Any More Bad Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mormonts, Jorah, Daenerys... They’ve all been poisoned from their heads down to their shoes. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> Family Reunion goes terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was _hard._ This is where the angstier part of the story comes in. We had some Jorah feels in past chapters, now we move on to Daenerys, her very short temper and her very (self)destructive way of dealing with trauma triggers. Two warnings:  
> 1- I haven’t read the books but I _know_ that Lyanna and Dacey are not mother and daughter, yet I couldn’t find any other alternatives for them to work in this scenario, Maege would be too old to be Lyanna’s mum. The ages here are:  
> Jorah - 50  
> Dany - 35 (I aged her up a lot, I know)  
> Jeor - 80  
> Maege - 65  
> Dacey - 40  
> Lyanna - 13
> 
> 2- I don’t wanna vilify the Mormonts, but since this is a Daenerys-centric-ish POV, I thought that at least in this first chapter her reaction to them could be negative. And I have a feeling they would not be easy to deal with. But everyone will be fine, just not right now. 
> 
> This is not a warning per se, but slight Jon Snow hate going on here. If you like him, I’m so sorry, in the context of this fic he is a gaslighting son of a bitch. 
> 
> Sorry for the long rant and I really hope you like the chapter. Thank you for everyone who left kudos and comments, they make my day brighter :3

The clock struck seven, so Jorah and Daenerys left the café and made their way to the arrival area. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and pressed her head against his back, listening to his heavy breathing. He usually melted in her arms when she did it, but he stood even straighter. 

“C’mon, dear,” she said, brushing her lips against the back of his neck “I know they’re your family, I know you feel like you wronged and hurt them, but you must not torture yourself. You picked yourself up, you’ve got a brand new life as an honest and respectable man, a bright scholar-to-be and a wonderful partner. If they can’t see it, it’s their problem, not yours, honey.” 

He was going to whimper something back at her, but he was interrupted by a deep voice calling his name, one of those voices that inspired awe and fear and could silence a whole room. The voice was similar to Jorah’s, with the same gravelly tone and gravitas, but slightly worn with age. Daenerys gave Jorah one last squeeze before letting go and facing her father-in-law. A man who was unmistakably Jeor Mormont, all broad shoulders and sharp features and a fluffy white beard covering his face, was coming towards them, flanked on the left by a younger woman with the same features as him and long hair and on his right by a pair who looked like mother and daughter. 

“Father. Aunt Maege,” Jorah said awkwardly and shook their hands. Both had matching stony expressions on their faces. 

“Hey, cousin,” the other woman offered, giving Jorah a half smile and a brief, one-armed hug. She was almost as tall as Jorah, had the same straight nose as the rest of the Mormonts, but her cheekbones were less pronounced and her eyes were not as blue as Jorah’s and Jeor’s. She did seem every bit as physically capable of shredding one to pieces as the rest of the family, but she had a somewhat relaxed feel to her, lacking the bite of her relatives. 

“Hi, Dacey. This must be little Lyanna,” Jorah said, seemingly relieved to see his cousin too and not just his father and aunt. Dacey’s smile broadened a bit and she gestured to the young girl next to her, her spitting image if not for the dark hair and eyes. She didn’t seem all too thrilled to be there. 

“Hi,” Lyanna said curtly, eyeing Jorah suspiciously. 

“This is my girlfriend Daenerys,” Jorah gestured to her and Daenerys tried to smile, but the four scrutinizing pair of eyes that fell on her probably turned her smile into an awkward grimace. She was almost certain she heard Maege mutter ‘another young blonde’ dismissively under her breath and she felt the telltale stiffening of her shoulders which meant her temper was rising fast. She would have no problem in standing her ground and even Jorah’s ground. Daenerys Targaryen was not one to take offense lightly. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Daenerys said, extending her hand, even though it was a kind of lie. At least all four Mormonts accepted her handshakes, even though Maege looked especially disdainful and Jeor’s fierce stare unnerved Daenerys to no end. Dacey looked at her as if she knew Daenerys from somewhere but couldn’t quite recall, but she was fairly sure she had never seen the northern woman in her life. 

Jorah then conducted everyone to the underground station and albeit Daenerys felt like they had come for a funeral and not a graduation, the six managed to make some small talk about the flight from Bear Island, King’s Landing and the weather. Though her first date and her first kiss with Jorah had been very much public, she preferred to keep her displays of affection towards him to more private situations. However, she thought it was prudent to show Jorah as much affection as she could in front of his family, especially his father, given his history with women who didn’t truly value him and what that did to his relationship with his family. It would bolster Jorah and show the Mormonts she was not Lynesse. She offered to carry their bags upstairs when they arrived at Jorah’s flat, but the Mormonts promptly refused, certainly as proud as Jorah. The couple busied themselves with dinner while the visitors freshened up and it gave Daenerys a moment to breathe and be relieved of the tense atmosphere that had settled ever since the four northerners came through the airport doors. 

“We’re off to a good start, huh,” she said mockingly. 

“They have their reasons to be mistrustful. I broke their trust. What are they supposed to do?” 

“What are _you_ supposed to do? Flagellate yourself before them? Let them treat you like dirt and me like some dumb, gold digging whore? I’m not having it, Jorah,” one of Daenerys’ few memories of her brother Rhaegar involved him joking about the ‘Daenerys anger-o-metre’ and how quickly it filled up. It certainly was filling up fast and they hadn’t even dined yet. 

“Can you _please_ not make things more difficult?” Jorah hissed dangerously at her. In the rare occasions when they fought, Daenerys was always the one to lash out and lose her head. Jorah would use his sarcasm-infused logic, sometimes sulk, but he never lost his cool. Even in her angry state, Daenerys was taken aback by her boyfriend’s aggressive tone. 

The two finished making dinner in uncomfortable silence and set the table in Jorah’s small living room. Her initial resolve to cover Jorah in kisses and cuddles waned out and she just wanted to eat in peace. Daenerys felt powerless; she had imagined that she would hold Jorah’s hand and sail that sea of awkward reunions and bitter pasts with her head held high, but nothing was going according to plan. She was angry, Jorah was frustrated and Maege picked on it as soon as they sat down to eat. 

“So, Daenerys, what is it that you do? How did you meet my nephew?” Maege asked, left eyebrow raised. The last word was said with slight contempt and Daenerys felt Jorah tense up next to her. 

“I teach Anthropology at King’s Landing Dragonpit University. It’s where I met Jorah.” 

“Was he your student?” Lyanna chimed in, her eyebrow raised in the exact same way as her grandmother’s. Knowing she had no way out of this trap without some elaborate lie, Daenerys thought it best to tell the truth. 

“I offered an elective course three years ago. Jorah took it,” four pairs of eyebrows shot up and all of them seemed ready to attack. Daenerys suddenly remembered a night when Jorah told her the Mormonts were known as the ‘true bears of Bear Island’ and it made a lot of sense. She quickly added then, in full defensive mode, “only six months after the course was over did we start seeing each other.” 

‘Is that even allowed?” Dacey shot her daughter a reproachful look but said nothing. 

‘We are adults. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Jorah said, clearly annoyed with where the conversation was going. Jeor looked like he was going to reply, but Dacey cut him off with a question to Daenerys. 

“Have you ever worked with other things, maybe in other places? I have a feeling I know you, but I can’t quite place a finger on it,” Dacey was definitely more careful in her interrogation than the other three. 

“Well, I spent most of my life in Essos, I graduated there, got my Master’s Degree there… I came to Westeros around ten years ago to get my P.h.D at Dragonstone University. I’m really sorry, but I’m not sure we’ve met before.” 

“No, I know it was you. Your face is quite unique, hard to miss. Did you ever live in the North?” 

“I did have some… acquaintances in Winterfell, I spent some time there, but I never lived in the North,” Daenerys sincerely wished some of those acquaintances were rotting in the Seventh Hell. 

“Oh, I remembered! You dated my coworker’s brother Jon. We must have met a company party,” Daenerys’ tolerably pleasant expression faded into a wry, resentful smile. Of all people, she had to be dining with someone who would remember her of that literal and metaphorical bastard Jon Snow. The North was _so fucking big,_ why did it seem that every northerner knew each other? Why did they have to know the one soul Daenerys wanted to see roasted on a spike? 

“Jon?” Jeor asked, his interest suddenly renewed. 

“Yes, uncle. Jon Snow who was your student at the Military Academy in Castle Black. He worked for Robb for a bit. I remember him talking about dating a girl who was getting at P.h.D. at Dragonstone and I’m pretty damn sure it was you I saw with him at those parties, Daenerys.” 

“Jon Snow was such a fantastic boy when he was at the Academy. So brave and fair, a true leader. I am very proud of him,” Jeor said, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Jorah, who had been silent, let out a low, bitter laugh that had the Mormont patriarch turning to his son and fixing him with a reproachful stare, “He was a very honourable man with a great sense of duty, right and wrong, and _family._ I am quite surprised he turned out not to be your choice of partner, Ms.?”

“Targaryen,” she felt her inner dragon flare up and spread its wings as she said last her name. How could that man insult Jorah and her like that? Jorah was trying to make peace, to start anew, “Jon and I had some irreconcilable differences, but I think _I am far better off now._ ”

She laced her fingers through Jorah’s and brought their hands onto the table, her previous irritation with her boyfriend forgotten. She chanced a look at him and he seemed just as heartbroken as she imagined he felt. At least the finality of her tone made Jeor look a bit embarrassed and he let the subject go. Lyanna, maybe picking up on the hostile atmosphere, asked Jorah was a museologist did, which managed to make him straighten up and launch into a more or less rehearsed speech about his new profession. It did clean the air for a while, until Maege, tired of the amenities and bent on continuing her interrogation and assessment of Daenerys, decided to ask her the one question she hated answering the most. 

“Do you have children, Daenerys?” 

Daenerys led her life perfectly well. Her old wounds had healed. She could cope with everything, except with that subject. That wound refused to heal, even to leave a big, ugly scar on her. If she shoved it way back in her mind, if she focused on other things hard enough she could pretend she didn’t feel any pain and live through it. It was what she had done since she buried her stillborn son fifteen years before that night. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“You’re lucky. A busy woman like yourself would have to sacrifice a lot to be a mother. If Dacey here didn’t have me to help raising Lyanna she would be screwed.”

It was as if all semblance of life left Daenerys that moment. Dacey rebuked her mother, but Daenerys didn’t register what she said. All she could see was the wisp of black hair on her son’s little lifeless head, his unmoving body. She heard her own anguished screams as the Dothraki doctors took Rhaego to another room and didn’t let her hold him, not even a second. She stood again between the two coffins, one for her boyfriend Drogo and the other for their child. She wasn’t lucky. 

She heard Jorah calling her name in the distance calling and turned to him on instinct. He asked her for help in cleaning the dishes and she helped him, not knowing what she was doing. Daenerys had tried to touch this wound before, to clean it and close it, but it only bled on unless left alone. Daenerys was drowning in her blood and Jorah saw it. Back in the kitchen, his strong arms came around her lithe frame and pressed her tight to his chest. He spoke to her but she didn’t catch the meaning of any of his words, but he was insistent, pressing kisses to her face and whispering in her ear. Her dragon truly awoke then and she came back to life with a wave of burning anger, pushing herself away from his arms. She didn’t want his pity, she didn’t want his love, she wanted to drown. 

“Babe, what’s wrong? What did aunt Maege say to put you in this state?” his face carried all the love and care the world, but Daenerys couldn’t bear to look at him. She wanted to scream and break things and purge the pain from her soul with her fists. 

“Nothing, Jorah. It’s late, they hate me, this was a disgrace, I got to go,” she made to leave, but he trapped her in his arms and kissed her face again. 

“Tell me, my love. You can tell me anything, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll make it right for you, Dany, just tell me!” 

“There’s nothing for you to fix, Jorah!” she spat, “your aunty thinks I’m lucky! What kind of luck makes a mother bury her son right after he was born? Huh? I’m very lucky, indeed!” 

Jorah’s eyes welled with tears as soon as she spoke. In her maddened state she wanted to slap him for daring to partake in her pain. She forgot all the trust and the love they had built in the past year and a half. She forgot how safe she felt in his arms and how his touch and his soothing voice calmed her. She pushed away from his arms again and fled his house like a wounded animal, Jorah chasing her down the stairs. 

“Honey, _please!_ Let me help you, I know I can’t fix it but you can talk to me! No one can survive in this world without help, let me help!” he pleaded desperately as she ran for the entrance door, tears falling from his blue eyes. 

“Let me go! If you love me, let me go!” 

She didn’t turn to look at the miserable man crying at his door. Daenerys left his building in a hurry and walked around the neighbourhood for a long while. She was disoriented and numb again and she had no idea how she got home. She fell on her bed and let herself be cuddled by her cats as her tears finally streamed down her face. She cried for Rhaego and everything that could have been, she cried for Jorah and his desperate pleas. She abandoned him when he needed her the most, she made her pain his. Daenerys felt alone and guilty and cowardly and immeasurably sad as she hadn’t felt in years. It was only by exhaustion that she managed to sleep, even then, her slumber was troubled by nightmares. She missed Jorah as much as she missed Rhaego; she missed his scent, his arms, his voice, his smile, his everything, and the broken woman wondered if she would have him again or if, like her child, she had buried him too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were her for the fluff: IT WILL RETURN! I really really wanted to write this clash, but all will be well. I’m a ‘happy ending’ kind of person.  
> The song lyric of this chapter’s title comes from _Border Song_ , but I could have picked any other verses from the song, it really works well in this chapter.


	7. Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jorah and Daenerys would not let the sun go down on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we’re back to the fluff, kinda. This chapter got long but I didn’t really want to divide it in two so I’m posting it the way it is. It is also probably full of typos and mistakes because I had to write it on my phone. So yeah, this is my apology. I hope you guys enjoy Dany’s and the Mormonts’ :)

Daenerys opened her tired eyes the following morning to Viserion staring at her lovingly. Rhaegal was nestled against her hip and Drogon laid on her back. It at least reminded her that she wasn’t completely alone in this world. Her limbs still felt like lead, but after the anger and worse part of the sorrow and the memory of her stillborn son passed, she had a clearer picture of the previous night. She was on her way to losing her head way before Maege made her unfortunate comment. If she hadn’t been so angry beforehand maybe she would have managed not to blow up that badly. If the Mormonts hadn’t been so judgemental, if Jorah hadn’t been so cold towards her, if, if, if… ‘Ifs’ would lead her nowhere. Daenerys wanted to find someone to blame fully but she couldn’t, not even herself. She had spent far too much time blaming herself for every one of Viserys’ mistakes and apologising when he was alive, she’d had enough of it. She was resolved to bow to no one, to apologise to no one for standing her ground and to show kindness to those who deserved it. She thought the Mormonts didn’t deserve it, but then she remembered Jorah’s forlorn expression and she felt the bile rising to her mouth, her regret burning like wildfire. They’d hurt her and she’d hurt them. _Him._

When Daenerys needed advice she usually went to Jorah, but she couldn’t just ask him what do to to make the situation better, because, well, they both had fucked things up, hadn’t they? Daenerys wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to throw herself in his arms and never leave but she couldn’t find the strength to get up, go to him and say what needed to be said. She felt small and weak and not at all like her proud, resolute self. The guilt gnawed at her chest and the tears burned her eyes. She felt blindly for her phone on her bedside table and unlocked it. Daenerys was met with Jorah’s barely contained happiness as he held a less-than-amused Drogon in his arms. She loved that picture, she wanted to have it framed and to hang it on her living room, but right then she couldn’t bear to look at it. She quickly looked away and called the only other person she trusted as much as Jorah, maybe even a bit more. 

“Missy, I know it’s early, but can we talk a bit?” 

“Gods, Dany, what happened, honey?” she heard her friend’s sleepy yet worried voice on the other side and Daenerys wished she had her two best friends with her. 

“Lots of things. Jorah’s family hates me but they love my ex and I might have inadvertently ended things with him because I can’t keep my fucking cool,” she knew her voice was trembling and Missandei picked up on it. 

“Hang on a sec,” she ended the call and Daenerys was left staring dumbfounded at her phone. Before her anger took hold of her, her phone started buzzing with a video call. She breathed out in relief and picked it up. Missandei’s dark eyes were full of concern and she could see Torgo Nudho peeking up, his usually stoic face too filled with worry, “that’s better now isn’t it, baby?” 

“Tell us, Daenerys, what happened with you and the Andal?” Torgo’s eastern accent brought her happier, warmer memories much like his wife’s familiar smile. She took a deep breath and the words poured out from her mouth.

Daenerys spared her lifelong friends no details of the dreadful dinner, not even of her own explosive behaviour. They listened attentively and did not interrupt her until she finished her tale. Talking to them about losing her child felt painful but it wasn’t as bad as what Maege’s comment made her feel. Missandei knew of the story and she suspected Torgo must have known too, for he didn’t seem too surprised. Jorah should have known. She should have told him, she should have trusted him before things came crashing down on them. 

“Dany, what a mess. I don’t even know what to say,” Missandei said honestly, her eyes wide and worried. 

“I do,” Torgo said, his eyebrows drawn into a line, “These Mormonts are not a good family to your Jorah and they are mean to you. They hurt you and him. But calm down, dragon! Don’t burn things, Daenerys.” 

“That coming from the guy whose main advice to you is often ‘kill it’, Dany,” Missandei chuckled and kissed her husband’s cheek and Daenerys couldn’t help but chuckle too, “but he’s right. I don’t think there’s anyone to blame in this situation, you all share a bit of guilt, including you. Those people were so rude to you, yes, Jorah was cold and didn’t really stand up for you, but think of what he must have been through. He needed you as much as you needed him, but something happened and neither of you really managed to hold on to each other before shit hit the fan.” 

“It really hit the fan, Missy. In the worst possible way. I stormed out of his house and left him to those vultures. They made it clear that they hate him, nothing he ever does will ever be enough for them and now they have another reason to hate him: this crazy bitch.” 

“Stop it right there! Are you really gonna make us fly to Westeros to slap you? You might be a bitch but you’re _our_ bitch and you’re not crazy, ok? No, don’t take their shit, Daenerys, but don’t give them reasons to think you’re a bitch. From what you told us they attacked you, but I don’t think all is lost. You said that Jorah’s cousin was kinder, even though she brought You-Know-Who into the conversation. I don’t think they would have come all this way if they didn’t want to mend things with Jorah, it’s just that they haven’t figured out how to do it ‘cause there’s probably a lot of bad blood between your northern bear and his sloth. As for Maege’s comment, however much of a judgemental bitch she seemed, there was no way she could have known what happened to you. Her remark was super uncalled for, but I know she didn’t do it specifically to hurt you based on that horrible part of your past.” 

Daenerys sighed and glanced at the image of her friends. She loved them so much. She wanted to hug them both. They were right, they were so right, but she still felt lost and unsure of what to do to get her Jorah back without hurting anyone else, herself included. 

“What do I do? They were awful. I was awful. If I were Jorah I wouldn’t want to see me after last night.” 

“Raise the white flag, Daenerys. Say ‘sorry’ to them, it is not weak and bad to say it. You are strong and fair, dragon. If they don’t want your ‘sorry’, kill them. If they don’t say they’re sorry to you, kill them too,” Torgo deadpanned. Even though Daenerys laughed at his strangely funny comment, she felt it was actually good advice. 

“Here we are back to the ‘kill them,’ huh?” Missandei looked at her husband in false reproach and laughed, “I don’t have much to add though. Go talk to them, Dany, be honest, say you were hurt, explain why and listen to them, they’re probably hurt too, especially Jorah. Maybe wait until the dust has settled? Think things through and don’t rush it, Jorah probably needs time to talk to his family. If he truly loves you, he’ll understand and you two will come out of this stronger than ever.” 

“If he doesn’t love you, kill him. Roast him, dragon, we’ll have barbecue,” Torgo said with a straight face before bursting into laughter with the two women. Those two knew how to lift Daenerys’ spirits like no one and they gave her very sound advice. She would follow it, even if it stung her pride. She didn’t want to let Jorah slip through her fingers. 

She ended the call feeling better, but she was still unsure. Should she call him or message him? It was still relatively early but Daenerys knew she wasn’t getting any more sleep. She got up then and went about her morning routine, striving to keep herself occupied while still trying to think about how she was going to approach Jorah. She didn’t know if she should meet him before his graduation ceremony or if she should talk to him there. A more pessimistic part of herself was telling her that he wouldn’t want her at his graduation and the thought made her anxious. When she finally checked her phone after a while, she found a message from Jorah.

Jorah <3 [10:37 AM]: Did you manage to sleep? 

Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. He was still there, worried about her. While the message did shut her annoying self-doubting voice up, it made her feel like an uncaring bitch. She picked up her phone and mulled a reply over for a while. 

Daenerys Targaryen [10:49 AM]: A bit. Did you?  
Jorah <3 [10:51 AM]: Not really.  
Daenerys Targaryen [10:52 AM]: Jorah  
Daenerys Targaryen [10:52 AM]: I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night  
Daenerys Targaryen [10:53 AM]: Do you think we can talk in person? I don’t wanna do this over the phone  
Jorah <3 [10:55 AM]: I need to solve some things here. We can talk after my graduation.  
Daenerys Targaryen [10:56 AM]: Will you mind if I attend the ceremony?  
Jorah <3 [10:57 AM]: No, of course not.  
Daenerys Targaryen [10:58 AM]: I’ll see you there then  
Jorah <3 [11:05 AM]: I’m sorry too, Dany.  
Jorah <3 [11:06 AM]: Really sorry.  
Jorah <3 [11:07 AM]: I’ll see you on Saturday. Take care of yourself, darling.  
Daenerys Targaryen [11:09 AM]: You too :3 

Their exchange soothed her heart a little and she could at least function properly that day and the next. She holed herself up in her house with her boys and spent the almost two full days leading up to the graduation ceremony reading in her living room in a way she hadn’t done in a while. It took her mind off the painful parts of the dinner and of the anxiety that meeting Jorah and his family again brought her. The cats knew there was something wrong with their mother, so they went that extra mile to make her feel loved and calm. It worked quite well until the night before the ceremony, when sleep just wouldn’t take her. She got up after hours of tossing around and rummaged her wardrobe for what she would wear the next morning. She found a white floor-length dress with blue trimmings that Jorah loved. It was a bit revealing, but Jorah would like to see her in it. Daenerys wondered if his family would only find her even more inappropriate, but she decided that she didn’t care. All she had to do was clear things with them, she didn’t have to make them like her. If they didn’t accept her apology and explanation, she would kill them with fire. Torgo Nudho would be so proud.

* * *

Daenerys looked at herself in the mirror; something was off. The dress was fine, her makeup was soft and complimented her face, her shoes and her purse matched the trimmings of her dress, she had braided her hair in place. Her eyebrows shot up and her breath caught in her throat. That was it, the braids. She could not wear her braids that day, however much it hurt her not to. Daenerys knew she had to leave the queen behind, just for a few moments. She undid her braids then and let her hair cascade down her exposed back. With that, she smiled and left her house, not without kissing each of her ever-supportive babies goodbye. 

The ceremony was taking place in the morning, in the open area at the centre of the campus where students liked to lay in the sun and chat in between classes. There were hundreds of chairs arranged in front of a stage set up for the graduating students to receive their diplomas. Daenerys arrived there and made sure to avoid bumping into any colleagues of hers that might be attending as well. She strolled around, trying to catch a glimpse of Jorah in full academic dress, but she couldn’t find him. Talking right then and there would probably not be a great idea, but she wished she could at least give Jorah a hug and tell him she was proud of him. She was woken up from her daydream by Jeor Mormont’s booming voice. Fuck. She didn’t want to see him before she talked to Jorah, but it would be too rude to ignore his call, so Daenerys made sure to school her features into a neutral expression and she turned slowly to the older Mormont man. 

She expected a wave of fury to hit her, but the man’s shoulders were slumped and he had a somewhat defeated feeling to him. Daenerys’ own mask fell then and she shuffled closer to her father-in-law with her eyes cast down. She didn’t like being in that position, but knowing she wouldn’t be begging for forgiveness to a man who enjoyed seeing her on her knees calmed her heart. No, Jeor seemed just as embarrassed as she was as he eyed her nervously. 

“Mr. Mormont, I- “

“Forgive us, Ms. Targaryen, for how we treated you. You see, we were very… wary and unsure of meeting Jorah again after all these years, he showed up with you in his arm and we couldn’t help but let the accusations fly. We were very rude to you. I’m very sorry about that. I wish things had gone differently between us,” he finished and she knew he must have been blushing under his beard. Daenerys smiled without knowing and gingerly placed a hand on her father-in-law’s shoulder. 

“I have to apologise too, Mr. Mormont. I know I’ve got quite a short temper and I didn’t handle the situation very well, storming off like I did, but you see, I’m not Lynesse,” he flinched at the mention of Jorah’s ex-wife and shook his head, “I truly love your son and I want to see him happy and reconciled with his family, I wanted to help with that, but I’m afraid I didn’t. I do hope you give me a chance to change that first impression into something better.” 

“Don’t leave him crying on his doorstep next time… Look, I don’t know exactly what I came here to do, but it wasn’t fighting, even though it’s all I’ve done. My relationship with my son has been strained for years now, long before he even met that woman. We’ve been yelling at each other for two days now, we would be yelling at each other even if that first dinner had gone perfectly well, so it wasn’t specifically your fault. I want you to know, however, that my sister didn’t truly mean harm when she said… that. We obviously didn’t know of your past, but I’m sorry for it nonetheless,” Daenerys felt the weight on her belly, but surprisingly the tears didn’t come. She nodded and took a deep breath. Jorah must have told them. The two shared a moment of silence that was neither oppressive nor comfortable before he resumed speaking, “I want my son to be happy too. He is finally living his own life and I am proud of him. I wish he knew that.” 

“Have you ever told him?” Daenerys asked softly. 

He looked at her and she had the fleeting impression that the weathered general was going to break down and cry. He composed himself quickly and offered her a half smile that spoke volumes. Daenerys saw Maege, Dacey and Lyanna approaching and she gave Jeor’s shoulder another squeeze. They all seemed much less terrifying than they had and it boosted Daenerys’ confidence a bit. Maege’s intense gaze had chilled her before, but in that moment it carried something akin to sympathy that felt welcoming. It could have been pity, but Daenerys decided to give her a second chance as they seemed to be giving her. She had little time to dance around an apology to the three Mormont women, much like they were doing, for the ceremony started and she finally saw Jorah standing in his green robes and square cap. The dean made a short speech before she started calling the students forward to receive their diplomas. Daenerys’ heart swelled with pride when Jorah’s name was called. His classmates gave him pats on the back and looked at him in admiration, he seemed beyond himself. The ceremony came to an end and he leapt off the stage, promising to meet his mates again shortly. His eyes scanned the crowd and met hers. Her throat went dry and the apology she had rehearsed at home disappeared from her brain. She thought he was furious at her, but Jorah rushed to her and lifted her in his arms. With her face nestled in his neck, Daenerys’ tears finally began to fall as he whispered “I’m sorry’s” and “I love you’s” in her ear. 

“Jorah, Jorah, honey, listen to me. No, no, no, listen to me. I left you alone. I abandoned you when you needed me. I am so, so sorry, my love,” she pulled his head down to rest her forehead against his, “ _I’m never leaving you again_. You’re always here for me, my beautiful, brave… bear.” 

He laughed heartily and gave her a clumsy, but sweet kiss as she raked her nails through his back and the nape of his neck. They would have stayed lost in one another for the rest of the day had Jeor’s voice not woken the two up from their dream. 

“Jorah,” he said, reaching for Jorah’s hand. The newly graduated Historian pulled away from his girlfriend and turned to his father. 

“Father.” 

I… I am proud of you, my son. Jon Snow is a fine lad, but he is not my son. You are. I am proud of what you have become,” Jeor barked a small huff of laughter and Daenerys noticed that Jorah was fighting a stubborn tear that threatened to fall. Something told her he waited his entire life to hear those words, “You made your mistakes, some of which were my own fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to become a soldier.” 

“Now is not the time, father,” Jorah said and his battle against the tears was nearing its end. Jeor wasn’t faring any better. 

“No, it’s not. What I mean is that you corrected your mistakes, Jorah, it takes courage and fiber to do so. I am proud of you, my son, and I truly hope you will be very happy in this new life of yours, with your charming, intelligent lady,” he chanced a nervous glance at Daenerys, another attempt at peacemaking, “Even though I still have no clue what a museologist does.” 

Daenerys was not sure if the noise Jorah made was a laugh or a sob, but he hugged his father tightly. She felt the remaining tension on her shoulders fade away and a wave of sympathy for the older Mormont hit her. She wasn’t sure if her father would ever do that. 

“We’re all proud of you, cousin,” Dacey added and laid her head on Jorah’s shoulder. All five Mormonts bundled up in a rare hug and another teardrop rolled down Daenerys’ face. ‘Sorry’ seemed to be the hardest word, but they had said it and there they stood, better than they ever did.


	8. The Leap of Faith, The Band of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after the graduation ceremony, Jorah and Daenerys are moved by the Circle of Life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff that was promised (with just some mentions of past trauma) is here. I'd like to thank everyone who read, left kudos and comments for the amazing support and for making our small but proud ship stronger. You guys are the best.  
> I've got a Harry Potter AU (that no one asked for but I'm gonna write anyway because Potterhead 4 layf) in the works that I'll try to start posting as soon as the last chapter of this fic is finished.  
> Thanks again for sticking with me through this! <3

Daenerys had an awful night. She couldn’t find a position to sleep in and she knew that it was only the beginning of many, many other sleepless nights. 

“You’re not gonna let mummy and daddy sleep for a while, are you, Helaena?” she murmured fondly, stroking the bump her daughter still rested in. Helaena gave her mother a kick as an answer and Daenerys chuckled. 

Daenerys knew Jorah wanted children even though he would never broach the subject with her. She saw it in his eyes when they met a child on the streets and her heart tightened in her chest. She hadn’t ever considered having another child after the loss of Rhaego and Jorah respected her choice. She loved him for many things, that being one of them. Helaena was one of those absurd accidents you always swear is never going to happen to you, but then it happens so quickly you don’t know what to do. Daenerys didn’t feel angry, sad, frightened or delighted when she found out she was pregnant, she felt absolutely numb. Jorah was worried sick after her call and left work early to meet her at her house. She blurted the news out as soon as she opened her door, looking at Jorah but not truly seeing him. They sat on the sofa for a long silent moment, both lost in their own minds until the words started pouring out of Daenerys’ mouth. The pain pricked her soul in fast, sharp strokes, like the needle of a tattoo artist, but she kept going, kept talking until the pain faded into a light aching. 

She had never mourned neither her child nor her first boyfriend properly; Daenerys kept going on with her life, trying to cover her wounds with thick, scaly armour, her dragon skin. She finally let herself mourn them, almost eighteen years too late. Jorah asked no questions, made no objections, he let her have her moments of deep sorrow even though his heart was bursting with happiness for their child. She lived in her past for a whole week, held tightly in Jorah’s grounding arms. 

On the seventh night after Daenerys broke the news to Jorah, she dreamt she was standing on a grassy field in Essos, clad in traditional Dothraki clothing. She saw two powerful figures on their stallions ahead of her, their long black hair tied in braids similar to those she wore on her daily life. They rode leisurely and she followed on foot, trying to hear their conversation but failing. The two went up a hill and Daenerys trailed behind, curious to see where they were going. When she reached the top of the hill, she looked around and the landscape of her youth changed; she was in green Bear Island. The path the two horse riders took was still there, now surrounded by tall pine trees. She saw them riding, but her feet stopped following them. She heard a gravelly voice calling her. 

“ _Do you want to go with them, Khaleesi?_ ” 

Jorah’s voice was concerned but accepting. He wore thick northern wools and held a bundle in his arms that beckoned Daenerys to come closer. It felt strange and familiar at the same for her to hear him call her ‘Khaleesi.’ She hadn’t told him of her old nickname, but Daenerys decided she didn’t mind hearing it again in his voice. The two horse riders stopped and looked at her with matching smiles on their serene, handsome faces. The raised their hands and waved before turning back and continuing their path through the forest. She turned to Jorah then, to the moving cluster of blankets he held, and when she spoke her voice held the strength of a thousand soldiers. 

“ _No, I do not._ ” 

She woke up from her dream and from her numb state at the same time and the thought that she should really let them ride away to wherever they wanted invaded her mind for the first time. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was the right thing to do. That morning, she pleaded with Jorah for him to move out of his run-down, furnished flat into her spacious house. His pride and stubbornness came into play and he insisted that he would be a burden to her. On a normal day, she would have wanted to slap him stupid, but her dream had cleared her mind and held back her temper, so she slid her hands into his hair and pressed kisses to his throat until he stopped talking and gave in to her wishes. She told him she wanted their child to have a home to grow up in, something Daenerys herself didn’t have in most of her childhood. That won him over and Jorah melted in her embrace, holding her tightly and finally allowing his happiness to burst out of him as he spun her around _their_ kitchen. 

Daenerys knew she had made the right choice when Jorah came home a week later, not with boxes as she was expecting, but with a bucket of red paint and a small lemon tree. She felt overwhelmed with love for him as she realised he remembered her story about the house with the red door and the lemon tree under her window. He sheepishly offered to replicate her fondest memory and she was happy to oblige. They spent a lovely spring weekend painting the door between kisses and laughter and after they were both hurting from the laughing and covered in paint, they planted the little tree on the small garden Daenerys had in front of her house. 

They spent their first month living together in oblivious bliss until they realised neither of them had told Jorah’s family they were expecting a child. Daenerys’ closest friends knew already and Jorah had told his advisor and a friend or two, but not his father, aunt, and cousins. Daenerys developed mixed feelings for her in-laws. The initial hostility between them faded away but still left some tension in the air and she knew the fragile peace they had established after Jorah’s graduation could break at any moment. She certainly didn’t expect that Jeor and Maege’s biggest concern after hearing the news was when Jorah and Daenerys would get married. When the couple announced that they didn’t really consider marriage right away, the elderly Mormonts were outraged. Daenerys’ indignation was nearly as great as it had been during that horrible dinner, yet that time she had Jorah’s full support. Some unfriendly phone calls ensued, but Daenerys wasn’t concerned. She knew they would come round eventually. 

The Mormonts raised the white flag when Daenerys was halfway through the pregnancy. Her belly was already large and round, carrying their little Helaena. It was a hot summer day when the postman delivered a small box from Bear island to her door. Inside she found a pair of dark green knitted baby shoes with a note. 

_Jorah and Daenerys,_

_This was Jorah’s very first pair of shoes. His mother knitted them for him. She would be happy to know they might be worn by her granddaughter - Much like Maege, Dacey, Lyanna, Alysanne and I are right now._

_Do give us news of Helaena (did I spell it correctly?),_

_Jeor_

Jorah cried a good deal over that simple yet meaningful gift. It was a gesture Daenerys didn’t expect from the Old Bear, but she treasured it all the same. She suspected that Jeor Mormont would be a much better grandfather than he was a father. He had seemed excited in his own somber way when Jorah and Daenerys picked the same four Mormonts up at the airport a few days earlier. They had come for the birth along with Missandei and Torgo Nudho, who would be Helaena’s godparents. Maege scolded Daenerys for being out and about days before her child’s birth, but she didn’t mind that. If it was up for Daenerys to choose, she would have finished the semester with all her classes, but her doctors advised against it. She was no longer a young girl and a pregnancy at 37 did have more risks than at 27. At least she could oversee her advisees’ work from home. 

“Is that your way of telling mummy to stop thinking about work, my darling?” Daenerys asked amusedly after Helaena kicked her again, bringing her out of her recollections of the past nine months. 

He daughter would be born in the winter and while it was Daenerys’ least favourite season, it reminded her of the beginnings of her relationship with Jorah, which she loved. Daenerys decided it was futile to keep trying to sleep, so she dragged herself out of bed and into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to find Jorah already up, holding her morning glass of lemonade - Daenerys’ only craving - in one hand and the ridiculously ugly dragon plushie he had gifted her almost three years prior in the other. Jeor was shaking his head at his son, his stare fixed on the dragon. 

“Please tell me you won’t give that thing to my granddaughter,” Jeor said to Daenerys, following her with his eyes as she kissed Jorah’s shoulder, took the glass from him and leaned against the counter to drink her lemonade. 

“Of course I am, it was Jorah’s first ever gift to me. It has a lovely story.” 

“Lovely story,” Jorah muttered. 

“It will traumatize the child!”

“Of course it won’t, Jeor. Look, it makes a funny noise,” Daenerys pressed the dragon’s paw and it roared just as loudly as she remembered. Her father-in-law looked legitimately scared. 

They continued their light banter through the day, with Maege joining them for breakfast and Missandei, Torgo, Dacey and Lyanna arriving for lunch. Daenerys’ C-section surgery was scheduled for the following day at 7:00 PM and she couldn’t wait to meet her daughter. Given her past history, she was terrified of anything happening to her baby, so she made Jorah promise that he would talk to the doctors and let her hold Helaena to say goodbye if things took a turn for the worse. Of course, he tried telling her that everything would be fine, but she did not relent until he had promised. 

Daenerys had a feeling things would be different, though. She clung to that hope all through the night and the day leading up to the big moment. Daenerys and Jorah checked everything three thousand times to see if they had packed everything before finally leaving for the hospital. If only they could take Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion with them, but the three furry babies would need to wait to meet their little sister. Daenerys saw Jorah try to stifle the jittery bouncing that seemed to take over his legs on their taxi ride to the hospital. He was ridiculously nervous, but he made sure to be there with her in the operating room. She could see the set of his jaw behind his surgical mask as the doctors applied the epidural anaesthetic. She felt like she could trust these doctors, for they had been recommended by the young but brilliant Doctor Samwell Tarly, a general practitioner who had identified and cured a skin disease Jorah had, which no dermatologist had been able (or bothered) to look into. The friendly doctor was standing to Daenerys’ left, making small talk with the obstetrician and giving Daenerys and Jorah some small, reassuring smiles. 

Daenerys knew the nurses were talking her through the process, but she zoned out staring at Jorah’s loving eyes. She did feel some tugging at her tummy, but she didn’t really mind. She had no idea how much time really passed until she and Jorah snapped back to reality when the heard a high pitched baby cry and some chuckles from the team of doctors and nurses. She was well. Helaena was well. Daenerys felt her eyes water and Jorah press a kiss to her forehead. She wanted to see her baby. 

“Give her to me! Please, let me see her!” she demanded desperately, feeling the air catch in her throat. 

“We’re just gonna clean her up, it’ll be a moment,” one of the nurses said. 

“Let us see her!” Jorah pleaded. Before they could argue more, Sam whispered something in her ear and took Helaena from her arms. 

The first things Daenerys noticed was the cheeks. Helaena had her father’s cheeks. She released her breath at the sight of her tiny, pink, _lively_ baby and her relieved tears fell. Neither parent wanted to let go of their precious child, but Sam eventually convinced them to allow him to clean Helaena up. Jorah covered Daenerys’ face in teary kisses and she hid her face in his neck. 

“She’s alright, my love! She’s perfect, Dany, she’s so perfect. She looks so much like you, honey, oh gods I love you,” Jorah sobbed the words out, still kissing his beloved’s face. 

“She’s got you cheeks, Jorah, she’s got…” she broke off, sobbing herself. Her hands went to the back of his head and she pressed him against her, “I love you, my bear.” 

Sam gave the baby back to the waiting parents, who marvelled at their clean and calm daughter. Jorah took her carefully in his arms, meeting some protests from Daenerys, and took her to the window of the operating room, where his family, his advisor Barristan Selmy, Missandei, Torgo, Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter Margaery waited. They all cooed and smiled at the baby and at the proud father. Missandei jumped at little and squealed in delight at the sight of her goddaughter. 

“Did you bring the shoes?” Jeor mouthed to his son. 

“Yes!” Jorah mouthed back. 

“Good,” the eldest Mormont shed away all his stiff, military antics and beamed at the small bundle in Jorah’s arms, “She’s beautiful, son.” 

“I know,” Jorah whispered softly to his daughter before taking her back into the arms of her impatient mother. 

The doctors were arranging things and finishing the stitches on Daenerys’ tummy but she didn’t see a thing. Her eyes were on her little Helaena as she searched for her mother’s breast. Everything felt surreal to Daenerys. A small part of her mind still couldn’t understand how she was there, and Jorah’s eyes carried the same amazement. It had seemed to her she lived her life like a candle in the wind, but being there in the arms of the man who loved her the most, holding their child, Daenerys realised she was wrong. She was a roaring fire who would never burn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from Elton's version of 'Circle of Life', so these lyrics do not appear in the film version (we all know that NAAAAAAANTS' INGONYAMA, BAKITHI, BABA is the best part of the song, but it didn't really fit hahahahaha). Look it up on YouTube, the official video is really good!


	9. I Got a Taste of Love in a Simple Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this day to the end of their days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of this little story. Again, I'd like to thank everyone who read, left kudos and comments in this. I loved writing this fic and I'm happy and humbled that some of you did enjoy my messing around with Jorah and Daenerys. Enjoy the very fluffy chapter!

Daenerys sat in front of a mirror in a large, sunny room and watched amusedly as Missandei finished arranging some strands of her hair in an elaborate do. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see four-year-old Helaena trying to teach her friend Daeron, Missandei and Torgo’s two-year-old son, how to growl like a bear. The curious boy, however, seemed more interested in stroking the silky coats of the tree furry guest Daenerys and Jorah had brought with them to Bear Island. The cats had been far less ferocious ever since their little human had been born, especially Drogon, who spent most of his days in Helaena's room, watching over his girl. They were humouring Daeron, but Daenerys thought it best to keep an eye on her godson. She met Missandei’s gaze on the mirror and both mothers had the same proud half-smile on their faces. After her friend was done, Daenerys rose from her seat to examine her form and released a happy sight when her taller friend wrapped her elegant arms around her shoulders. 

“Are you ready to give me the way, Missy?” Daenerys asked, delighted at how her friend laughed and squeezed her. 

“You bet.” 

Daenerys and Jorah didn’t think that getting officially married made much of a difference to their relationship, but after four years of nagging the pair relented to the Mormonts’ wishes. Jeor was old and he confessed to Daenerys once that he would like to see his son married again to “someone decent before I die.” The compliment did warm her up inside and she decided to give the idea a shot over dinner one night, even though she believed Westerosi weddings to be tacky and she felt no real need to have one. Jorah looked at her with his customary tenderness when she mentioned the thought to him and told her he would go to the seventh layer of Hell if it made her happy, but for him, a wedding was just a glorified statement date and they could use the money for better things. Daenerys thought it was sensible and she was ready to let the subject slide, but Helaena was having none of it. The little girl started gushing about cakes and dresses and how she wanted her mummy and her daddy to get married on a ship just like Ariel and Eric while she waved a trident about like King Triton. Daenerys thought it was hilarious that Helaena placed her parents in the position of prince and princess and herself as the powerful king of the entire ocean and Jorah’s defeated yet proud look told her he would cave in and give his daughter what she wanted. 

Cave in they did, even though they both despised the idea of a ‘big white wedding.’ Their guest list was reduced to a handful of people who truly mattered to them and the ceremony would be short and simple, held at the Mormont family farm in Bear Island. The one thing that Maege, Dacey and even Missandei managed to coax Daenerys into doing was wearing a white dress instead of the blue one she wanted to wear. After they had talked her ears off, she ended up choosing a long gown with loose sleeves that fell off her bare shoulders like a cape but left her arms exposed. It was regal and she looked gorgeous in it. She wore no veil nor lots of makeup, for the slight wrinkles around her eyes were a part of her and she felt no need to hide her age. She smiled a little more at the thought that she had seen Jorah’s hair become thinner and greyer just like he had seen her stretch marks and wrinkles, but neither of those things made any of them less beautiful in each other’s eyes. 

“What’s that sentimental smile for? You’re starting to look like that husband of yours,” Missandei teased and Daenerys turned to hug her friend. A knock on the door interrupted them and Daenerys saw Jorah peeking into the room. Helaena, who had given up playing 'bear' with her friend and was somewhat happy to stroke her cats' fur with the little boy, leapt from the floor and darted to the door, her silvery hair flowing behind her and her deep blue eyes narrowed. 

“Daddy, you can’t come in! Aunty Maege said the gods will curse you if you see mum before the wedding!” she scolded her father with both hands on her hips. Her tone left no room for arguing and Daenerys laughed at how Helaena was every inch her daughter. 

“Okay, okay, little dragon!” Daenerys could hear the smile in Jorah’s voice, “I’m here to ask if you’re all ready, I haven’t seen your mum.” 

“Not a peek?” Helaena asked accusingly and her mum knew she was having too much fun guarding the secret outfit of the bride. 

“Not a peek,” he said, chuckling, “is she pretty, though?” 

“Yes!” Helaena said, her face lighting up in pride, “prettier than Elsa!” 

“Of course she is,” Jorah purred, knowing Daenerys was listening. His warm tone made her involuntarily lick her lips. She would have her way with him that night. 

Jorah told them he would take his post in the altar by the side of the small lake in the Mormont property and asked for the women not to be too ‘fashionably late’, it was uncharacteristically hot in Bear Island and he wanted to take his suit jacket off. In spite of his complaints, Daenerys knew he was happy. Jorah had been in a fantastic mood ever since they arrived in his homeland, when he excitedly showed his wife-to-be and daughter every nook and cranny he used to play in when he was a boy. Seeing him play with Helaena in those woods like nothing else mattered made Daenerys even more certain that she made the right choice. With that in mind, she checked the cats' food and water bowls as well as their litter boxes, kissed her furry children on their muzzles and lifted Helaena in her arms as Missandei held Daeron, leaving the room with her friend and the kids. 

They walked leisurely towards the lake where some chairs and a vine garden arch had been set up among the pine trees. The few people that had been invited were already sat and they waited for the bride to arrive. Daenerys could see the Mormonts sitting on one side near some of their acquaintances and three men she suspected were Jorah’s old army comrades. Some of his colleagues from the museum were also there and so was his former advisor Barristan Selmy, who was chatting to sweet Sam Tarly and his wife, Olenna Tyrell, and her old classmate Yara Greyjoy. She also noticed Margaery already becoming fast friends with two of Daenerys' young advisees and with Irri, Doreah, and Rakharo, who managed to make it from Vaes Dothrak. She couldn’t help but feel moved at how her friends, however few, had been there for her through thick and thin. Her smile broadened when she saw Torgo strutting towards them, an unusual serene expression on his face. 

“Jorah the Andal is complaining you are late. He is very annoying. Can I kill him?” he asked, pretending to be very upset. 

“No!” Helaena told her godfather furiously. The three adults burst out laughing, much to the little girl’s indignation. 

“Alright, you rascal. Let’s go, your grandfather is waiting for you. Dāeron, māzigon kesīr," Daeron, who still had a hard time with talking but who understood Valyrian and the common tongue perfectly, was happy to throw himself in his father's waiting arms.

"Go on, princess, don't keep your grandpa waiting,” Daenerys kissed Helaena’s forehead and gave her daughter a fond little smile that used to be just for Jorah, but now was for her as well. 

“Not a princess, mummy, a Khaleesi!” the feisty girl replied, grinning from ear to ear. She knew very well how to make her mother melt. 

“The go, my Khaleesi. Don’t forget you have to bring us the rings, and most importantly, don't forget our secret plan,” Daenerys said with a sly smile, getting confused glances from her friends. Helaena nodded excitedly and sauntered off with her godfather. Daenerys laced her fingers through Missandei’s and the two shared yet another smile before finally walking towards the chairs. 

Some people frowned slightly when they saw the two women walking down the aisle, but Daenerys couldn’t care less. She wouldn’t have anyone else walking her down because before Jorah and Helaena came around, Missandei was her family. Daenerys’ stare drifted away from the guests and she finally met Jorah’s bright eyes. They both secretly enjoyed the ordeal tremendously, from the celebrant’s thoughtful initial speech to seeing Helaena skitter around happily, bearing their rings. Both kissed their daughter’s cheeks as they took the wedding bands from the pillow she was carrying. Helaena flew back into her grandfather’s arms while Jorah and Daenerys gazed at each other again. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day to the end of my days,” he said the age-old vow reverently as he slipped the thin silver band on her finger. 

“I am his and he is mine, from this day to the end of my days,” she repeated the words to him and his smile broadened just a little bit more. 

“You may kiss the bride,” the celebrant told Jorah and smiled kindly at the couple. 

Daenerys couldn’t help but smile mischievously at her husband as his hand went up to her cheek, seeming as if she was up to no good. He raised an eyebrow at her when she exchanged a quick glance with their daughter, who looked like the cat that ate the canary. He dipped for the kiss anyway, but when his lips first brushed Daenerys’, Helaena let out her loudest, most fearsome dragon roar, mimicking her beloved plushie. Jorah jumped back and Daenerys burst out laughing much as they had done eight years prior in that Ferris-wheel. He looked at the two women of his life in mock irritation before he laughed happily alongside the pranksters while most of the guests looked at them in confusion. Jeor tried to give his granddaughter a scolding look, but no matter what he could never be angry at the wonderful little girl that had thawed out his heart considerably. 

After the laughter died down, Jorah pulled Daenerys to him and she went willingly, carding her fingers through his greying hair. Their lips finally met to the cheers of guests. Jorah’s kiss had become constant and familiar to Daenerys, yet she couldn’t help but feel like they were back in that winter fair, contentedly lost in the novelty of each other. Where would she be if she had told Jorah they were better off as friends? Daenerys Targaryen didn’t know and she didn’t care, for there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'māzigon kesīr' apparently means 'come here', according to the Valyrian translator I found. 'Daeron' is probably related to 'daez', which means 'free', so I thought it would be a fitting name for Missandei's and Grey Worm's son.  
> The last title lyrics come from _I'm Still Standing_ , which is a nice, upbeat song with a great message to end this story on the positive note we all deserve.


	10. Epilogue: Laughing Like Children, Living Like Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time on his hands will be time spent with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you asked for a 'wedding night epilogue' and I couldn't say no to that. More fluff, more smut and a Jorah POV to wrap this story up decently to the tune of _I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues_. If you have any prompt or request either for this AU or for something else within this ship, do leave a comment or find me on Tumblr under the same username (there's nothing there yet, I can't use that godforsaken site properly but I do reply to messages), I'd be happy to help!   
> For the 10029029450th time, thank you so much for taking the time to read this, it truly does mean the world to me! Y'all are the greatest sailors in the greatest ship!

When Jorah Mormont moved back to Westeros, he bet all his chips on the fact that his life would improve, it _had_ to, otherwise, he wouldn’t know what to do. He had expected to finally be able to further his education, maybe to get a job on the field if luck was on his side, but definitely not to fall hard in love with his professor, nor that she would come to correspond his feelings. He tried to stifle them, to reason his heart back in place, but it beat too fast for his liking whenever he caught sight of Professor Targaryen. His love life had been disastrous and all love had ever brought him was heartache, but there was something about that woman, something strong yet kind that enchanted him from the very first moment. He knew he shouldn’t, but Jorah saw himself approaching her more and more, however much his brain waged war with itself, not sure of its own intentions nor if her positive reactions towards him were born out of politeness. He saw her hesitation when he asked her out on that winter date and he thought he had crossed a line and would probably lose someone he had come to regard as a friend, but she accepted his offer and he noticed how her initial reticence wore off as the night went on. Even as she explicitly welcomed his affection, he still felt unsure, ready to hear from her she had changed her mind and didn’t want him near her. Daenerys never said it, though; she welcomed him to her house, her bed and her life and Jorah was delighted to welcome her to his. 

When Jorah was in the army, he had his share of near-death experiences. The film that played in his head in those situations had been unpleasant to watch, for he knew it was the end. The one he watched at that moment, nervously waiting for Daenerys to walk down the aisle wasn’t, it was not an end, it was a beginning. He saw her smile, saw himself braiding her hair, saw her being adorably angry (and him getting a slap for saying so), saw how proud she was of him and how her eyes softened and she was filled with love as she looked at their daughter. Their knot was as tight as they came, but his little Khaleesi wouldn’t leave her parents alone if they didn’t get to ‘officially’ tie it for her to watch. His smile broadened and he shifted, fidgeting with the blue tie Daenerys had given him for his birthday. His gaze met Helaena’s, bundled up in her grandfather’s lap, and Jorah winked at his daughter. The cheeky thing got what she wanted and he was overjoyed that she did. He felt happy and light in a way that would have Dacey making fun of him for eternity, but it was a lovely feeling. 

Helaena was right; Daenerys did look prettier than Elsa and than all of the princesses in Jorah’s opinion. He felt like the elegant woman walking towards him truly was a queen, graceful and deliberate. His already warm chest got warmer as she smiled at him and held his hand while the celebrant spoke. Jorah felt every word the man said but heard none. He was aware of his almost-wife’s presence like never before and his focus was solely on her, her silvery braids cascading down her back and the small smile tugging at her lips, ever the temptress, whether she knew it or not. He held her left hand with care as he said his vows and slipped the silver ring on her finger and he marvelled at how true the words sounded to his ears. He thought he had meant it when he said the same vows to Lynesse and he hoped very hard for _her_ to mean it, but neither truly did. When Daenerys said the words back to him, he knew they were real. Jorah was overcome with the need to hold his wife tightly in his arms and kiss her until they couldn’t breathe, but the sly smile she shared with their daughter made him curious. He ignored it, though, and pulled her in for the kiss, but Helaena interrupted them with her fearsome roar that made Jorah jump backward and sent Daenerys into a fit of giggles. He felt his cheeks getting red and warm, but he couldn’t be angry at their mischievous antics. Those two would be the death of him, he was sure. 

Jorah finally let his heart burst with happiness as he kissed Daenerys. He savoured her lips for as long as he could until his little girl flew from her grandfather’s embrace to hug her parents, smiling in unbridled joy. He hoisted her up in his arms and both parents hugged their daughter as the guests cheered. 

“You’re happy?” Daenerys asked their daughter kindly. Helaena beamed at them and nodded enthusiastically. The newlyweds shared a look that meant the same thing. 

Their simple, intimate reception would be held outside the farmhouse, where a tent and some tables had been set up for the guests to have lunch. The couple walked unhurriedly, with their daughter happily swapping from her father’s to her mother’s arms when either got tired of carrying Helaena. Such a small celebration afforded Jorah and Daenerys the opportunity to mingle and talk with everyone, even though they unconsciously sought each other. There was something comforting to him about seeing Daenerys at ease in Bear Island, enjoying herself with her friends while still looking around in amazement at the green hills and woods that surrounded the Mormont farm. Before lunch was served, they decided to bring the tables close in order to have all the guests sit down together. Jorah tried to enjoy the creamy mushroom risotto that had been served, but the foot Daenerys was rubbing sensually along his leg under the table cloth took his mind away from his food. 

“Daenerys,” he all but growled at his wife, trying to keep the frustration from showing to the people nearby. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked innocently, but her lips curved upwards devilishly. 

“Daenerys, you’re forty-one and my son is fifty-six, can the two of you please refrain from acting like horny teenagers? You lovebirds will have the lakeside cabin for yourselves tonight, you can nest there once the party is over. Seven Hells,” Jeor snapped. His son and daughter-in-law both looked at the older Mormont with matching mortified expressions, “you two think I’m dumb or what? I spent my entire life trying to make soldiers out of raucous, hormonal boys, I know how to tell when people can’t think of anything other than sex. Get a grip.” 

Daenerys was far more open about her sexuality than Jorah, yet he knew she was just as embarrassed as he was at being called out by her father-in-law. They tried to carry on with their lunch without arising more suspicions and probably failed, for Missandei and Irri had matching sly smiles when they pulled Daenerys up to dance with them after the dessert had been served. Jorah decided then to resume talking to his old army comrades until he eventually ended up on the dance floor, swaying to the slow music in his wife’s arms. He let himself relax and enjoy the afternoon as he rested his chin on top of her head and the couple stayed there for a while until something caught their eye. Last time they had checked, the children - led by Helaena - had been trying to get Lyanna, a notable child-hater, to play with them. They were making noise and running amok much to the young girl's distress, so she ended up relenting and playing with them, if only so they would stop pulling on her hair. When Jorah and Daenerys looked again, they weren’t playing or being rowdy anymore; all of the kids were sitting down on a circle, attentively listening to the story Jeor Mormont was telling them. Daenerys took her head off Jorah’s chest and smiled as she saw the nostalgic expression on his face. 

“My father wasn’t around much when I was a child, he was often deployed overseas. When he was home he was strict and not very affectionate. He was never violent and I hardly ever saw him fight with my mother, but still, he was distant. There was one thing, however, that he always did: he would turn his daily stories from the army into fantastical tales of knights and dragons and mythical creatures. I’d beg him for a whole week to tell me a story and when he did it was magical. Even mum dropped everything to listen to him. My fondest childhood memories are probably my mum sitting with me by the fire, listening to my dad tell his tales,” he had a small smile on his face and a faraway glimmer in his eyes. Daenerys stood on tiptoes and pecked his lips. 

“Now I know where your taste for storytelling comes from,” she said as she pressed her lips to his once more. 

The party continued as the day went by and the sun set behind a hill. At night, another meal of fresh salmon and salad was served and while everybody ate Lyanna got her guitar from the farmhouse and started playing. Sitting there listening to his cousin’s skillful playing with his wife’s head on his shoulder and his asleep daughter on his lap, Jorah realised how tired he was, in a very pleasant way. Thankfully the guests took the hint that the party was ending and began to leave. Jorah was genuinely happy that they had all come, but he was dying to spend some alone time with his wife. When everybody had congratulated the couple and left, Dacey came to where they were, dangling some keys on her finger. 

“There you go, lovebirds. Please don’t go making another,” she waved at Helaena and both Jorah and Daenerys glowered at the amused woman, “Helaena is a sweetheart but she’s a handful.” 

“Mind your own business, Dace,” Jorah said halfheartedly. His cousin gave him a smack to the head and tossed the keys to Daenerys before picking Helaena up and carrying her back to the house. 

The couple got up and walked hand in hand around the house and towards the small cabin by the lake, marvelling silently at the starry sky. Before Daenerys could protest, Jorah bent down and scooped her up in his arms with a big grin on his face. She squealed and punched him lightly on the shoulder, then she licked his earlobe as he struggled to open the door. The wooden cabin was cozy and warm, but neither had time to admire the decor, for they dropped to the sofa in a mess of limbs, kissing deeply and urgently. Daenerys managed to straddle his lap as she wrapped her fingers around his turquoise tie, smiling wickedly into the kiss when she heard his needy grunts. As soon as she removed his suit jacket, his hands flew to her hair and he kissed even harder, fighting to undo her complicated braids without hurting his wife. She hummed appreciatively as he started kissing her neck and playing with her silver-blonde hair. 

“Déjà-vu?” he murmured against her throat, slowly inching his right hand up her thigh under her dress. She just smiled, the memories of their first time together flooding her mind. 

“Bedroom, Jorah,” she echoed her past self and her husband complied, carrying her to the bedroom while keeping his mouth on hers. 

They fell on the bed and Jorah could feel every curve of her body beneath his. He left her lips to kiss the top of her breasts and fondle them over her dress. He had wanted to see her in it earlier in the day, but in that moment he wanted to see her out of it. As if reading his mind, Daenerys pushed him off her, got up and turned her back to him, giving him access to the dress’ zipper. He pulled it down, kissing every new bit of revealed skin, and pushed the sleeves off her shoulders so that the dress fell in a heap of white at her feet. She wore no bra and her red lacy underwear had him growling in desire. Jorah enjoyed her moans as he kissed her back and cupped her breasts. She turned and pushed him back into the bed as their lips met once more, but he flipped them around so she was under him again. His mouth started a path down her body, stopping to kiss, lick and nip each of her breasts with care and devotion, then kissing her stomach and the slight stretch marks near her bellybutton. 

He kneeled down between her spread legs and his lips trailed the inside of her thighs, getting frustrated moans from her. He kissed her clit through her lace and Daenerys shuddered, wet and ready for him. He removed her underwear slowly, teasing her before finally diving into her core. Jorah had devoted the better part of the past eight years to mapping Daenerys’ body with his mouth and hands, he knew by heart what to do to get her wanting more. He closed his eyes and savoured her, pouring all of his love into his kiss as her moans filled the room. Jorah pushed two fingers into her and thrust in time with each stroke of his tongue to her clit, curling them slightly so that his fingertips brushed against that sensitive spot within her that made Daenerys scream and grab his head. Her orgasm came crashing down not long after he pressed the first kiss to her vulva, she moaned his name and clenched around his fingers, coating them in her juices. He didn’t stop licking her nor thrusting his fingers and soon she was skyrocketing again, her pants and moans faster and louder. He sucked hard on her as his fingers plunged in and out of her frenetically, making her come yet again, screaming his name and shaking. 

“Think you can handle another round, my love?” He asked as he sucked his fingers clean, clearly satisfied that he could still give her so much pleasure. She grumbled something incoherently and he chuckled, getting up to remove his shoes, his belt and his tie. 

He dove down again and kissed her languidly. Daenerys slowly recovered her ability to function and she decided it was his turn to have fun. She licked the hollow of his throat while her hands worked on the buttons of the yellow shirt she loved. Her lips traveled around his chest and Jorah moaned as she captured his nipple in her mouth. Her left hand grabbed his buttocks and her right went to the front of his dress slacks, feeling his hardening cock. She managed to slip her hand inside his trousers and stroke him firmly. When she felt him getting bigger in her hand, she slid down his body and yanked his trousers and his underwear down, smirking at his thick shaft that was starting to pulsate in her grasp. She kept stroking him with her right hand as her lips enveloped the tip and her tongue circled him in tight motions that had him panting and bucking his hips. Her left hand went between her legs while she sucked him and she rubbed circles on her clitoris to get herself started again. Each deep moan that left Jorah’s mouth sent another jolt through Daenerys’ body and she marvelled at the effect he had on her. She wasn’t a young girl anymore, yet he made her wet and hungry for him with his voice alone, even after two wonderful orgasms. He let out a frustrated noise when her lips left his cock with a pop, but as she motioned for him to lay fully on the bed Jorah preened in anticipation to the wonderful feeling that having her cunt around him always was. Before she sunk down on him, Daenerys eyed his discarded tie and smirked maliciously. She picked it up brushed it against his face and his twitching cock before holding his arms above his head and tying his hands to the headboard, leaving Jorah at her mercy. 

“Daenerys, you’re a tease,” he could hardly hide his smile. He loved being tied down under her, seeing her take her pleasure from him as she rode him. 

“And you love it,” she said as she sunk down onto him. Their breath caught and he had to muster all his self-control not to spill right then. 

Her movements were slow and deliberate, meant to make Jorah go crazy with want. She looked gorgeous with her head thrown back and her eyes shut tight and Jorah thought he was the luckiest man alive to have such a sensual goddess for a wife. 

“Babe, you feel so good around me. Fuck, Daenerys, you’re so beautiful, yeah, love, harder!” 

“And you feel so good inside me, my handsome bear, you’re so big, so good.” 

They found a faster, almost desperate rhythm for their nuptial coupling. She touched herself frantically as his hips came up to meet hers in sharp strokes. They started to falter and Jorah’s moans got louder and more urgent, so Daenerys rubbed her clit even harder to come again with him. Her third orgasm started barely seconds after he tensed up and spilled inside her with a cry. She fell forwards on his chest, her walls still fluttering around his softening cock, and both tried to catch their breaths and recover their mental faculties. Jorah pressed a kiss to her head and she moved to untie him, letting him slide off her. They stayed cuddled up to one another in a sweaty mess for a while until Jorah chuckled. 

“What?” she asked confusedly. 

“Dacey won’t be happy to know we skipped the condom.” 

“Seven Hells,” she whispered softly, “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just wanted to fuck you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind, though,” she lifted her head from his chest and raised an eyebrow at him, “another cub. Maybe a boy to even things out.” 

“Jorah!” she swatted his arm lightly, trying to sound reprimanding but her shining eyes gave her away, “it’s no use crying over literal spilt milk, though. We’ll worry about that in a few weeks.” 

He laughed heartily and kissed her head again before getting up and offering her his hand. Her sleepy, satisfied expression became more or less confused but she took his hand nonetheless.

“We could take a shower or even go for a soak in the jacuzzi outside if you like. I reckon father left us a bottle of Dornish red,” Jorah said as he pulled Daenerys into his arms. 

“I like the jacuzzi option,” she said with a smiled and kissed him. 

When Jorah Mormont moved back to Westeros, he imagined a number of outcomes for his life, some better than others. Looking down at the sleepy woman in his arms, he knew he was in the best of them.


End file.
